Tale of Kenji
by Night-Mare-Chan
Summary: It is the end of one age and the beginning of another and Himura Kenji is trying to find his own way in life. Will he be able to discover his own path? Or will his stubborness hurt those closest to his heart?
1. Kenji

He waited in the shadow of the alley, watching the passersby with narrowed eyes, from across the way he saw the cherry red end of a cigarette and scowled, damn that Fujita. He was just trying to reveal their position. Not that it would matter. There came the sound of shuffling feet from not too far away. Kenji pressed himself against the wall, clenching the handle of the shinai. What he wouldn't give for a real katana... The sounds came closer, followed by the heavy breathing of a man on the run. The culprit himself appeared, clutching a cloth bundle in his hands. His expression was strained as he glanced furtively over his shoulder as if he was being pursued. Kenji smirked. Well he wouldn't have that fear for long.

"That wasn't yours to take."

Kenji cursed low under his breath as Fujita's voice rolled casually out of the darkness in the timbre of a man rather then the usual boyish squeak. The thief turned toward Fujita, presenting his narrow back to Kenji. The boy stiffened, clenching his hands and feeling a knot rise in his throat.

"Who..who's there?" the man said.

"Just someone concerned with the welfare of the community," Fujita said, stepping out of the alley and flicking his cigarette onto the street. The man was still turned toward him. Still such an easy target.

"What's your name? Where are you from? You know stealing is a crime, don't you?" Fujita asked. The man stuttered and stumbled, each fumble making Kenji more and more annoyed.

"Damnit, Fujita, you're doing this on purpose!" Kenji snapped, stepping out of his own hiding place. The older boy tried to give him a mild look, but Kenji could see the upward twist of his mouth.

"I'm just giving you a little help."

"I don't need your help!" Kenji snarled. The thief turned toward him, face pale.

"Who...who are you two? What do you want from me?" He clutched the bundle tightly to his chest.

"Forget that," Kenji said, placing both hands on the shinai's worn handle. "You took something that didn't belong to you. That's called stealing and now you're going to pay for it."

"No...no please, you don't understand."

"Did you steal it?" Kenji asked, balancing himself back.

"Well...well yes I did, but..."

"Then you're going to get what you deserve." Without another word, Kenji pushed himself off the ground and flung himself forward, smirking as the wind pulled at his hair. He jabbed the shinai into the man's stomach. The thief gave a little yelp and stumbled forward. Kenji twisted behind him, took a moment to check his footing, then swung the shinai around, catching the man in the small of his back. There was a terrific smack and the man squealed like a pig as he stumbled and fell hard onto the street, the package rolling from his fingers and opening to reveal lumps of western style bread.

"Bread?" Kenji scowled and prodded the whimpering man in the thigh with the tip of his shinai. "That is pathetic."

There was the sound of slow clapping and Kenji glared at Fujita whose smirk had only grown as he bought his hands together. "And so the streets of Tokyo are safe from one more bread thief."

"Shut up," Kenji snapped, having the feeling he'd been had all along. He slid the shinai into the ties of his hakama like it was a real sword and ignored Fujita's little chuckle, then thought a moment and picked up the man's loot. There was nothing hidden among the mostly stale loaves. No impressive valuables, no secret government papers. What a waste. Someone had just called out stop thief!' and he'd gone. In hind sight, he probably should have seen who it was. Sighing, Kenji dug out two of the freshest loaves and tossed one to Fujita before dropping the bag to the ground. Fujita caught the bread easily and the two walked from the narrow street onto the main thoroughfare. The marketplace was closing down for the day and there were only a few stragglers left.

"I hate this city," Kenji said, tearing into the bread and finding it was a bit stale as well. What kind of thief was he to only steal bad bread?

"You just hate it because you can't get what you want," Fujita said, taking his western pocket watch out of his western vest and clicking it open to check the time. "Face it, Himura; the age of the sword is long gone."

Kenji couldn't help but glare at the boy. Fujita was only a few years older than him, but just because he was taller he seemed to think he knew everything. Even more annoying was that he was so much taller he made Kenji look even younger then he already was. Fujita was wiry too, not an ounce of what mother so annoyingly wanted to call "baby fat", and walked with the easy grace of a swordsman. The only fault Kenji could find with him was that his chin was so sharp he could probably skewer meat on it.

"It will be back," Kenji said, folding his hands in his sleeves. "People will realize that the old ways were a lot better." He couldn't see how people liked all this western stuff anyway. It wasn't a bit Japanese. Western clothes were too strange and most of their gadgets did nothing but make a lot of noise.

"Don't be so naïve, I'm already embarrassed enough to be seen with you."

"The feeling is exactly the same," Kenji said, glaring straight ahead. He wasn't sure what naïve meant but coming from Fujita it couldn't be anything less than an insult. He didn't understand why Fujita took it so lightly. He was even better then Kenji with a sword and his father was a great swordsman too. But with all these western guns, swords were quickly being forgotten. Everyone was so in love with the west. It was disgusting.

"I almost wish the Shouganate had won the war," he muttered. Fujita laughed, showing his annoyingly sharp canines. Kenji clenched his hands into fists. "What?!"

"You don't have any idea what you're talking about, little boy," Fujita said. Kenji saw the older boy's hand coming for his face but there was no time to move before the short, sharp, annoying sting as Fujita flicked him in the forehead. That was _it._

"Come on!" he snapped, pulling his shinai from his waist and moving in front of Fujita, glaring at him along the bamboo's length. "Fight me, you obnoxious bastard!"

"All right, then," Fujita said with a smirk. Before Kenji could move, Fujita kicked the shinai out of the way in one fluid motion, then darted forward, hooking an arm around Kenji's throat and yanking him back. Kenji dropped the shinai to grab at Fujita's arm, trying to pull it away.

"Ahh!" he yelped as Fujita began to rub his knuckles hard across Kenji's head.

"This is how little boys get treated," Fujita said, rubbing even harder.

"Gaah, get off, you bastard!"

"Make me."

"Fine!" It wasn't fair that Fujita was so much stronger then him! Kenji struggled in the older boy's grip, finally managing to squirm enough to sink his teeth in Fujita's arm. He bit down hard, tasting blood on this tongue. Fujita yelped, letting him go and snapping out a hand to shove him back. Kenji took the scant second he had to dodge to slip his fingers across Fujita's vest and snicked out his watch. The taller boy's hand connected with his stomach and he oofed as he was driven back a step or two.

"You little rat," Fujita said, lifting his arm to inspect his sleeve. "I hope you haven't given me rabies."

"I hope _you_ haven't given me food poisoning," Kenji said, scooping up his shinai and stepping out of Fujita's range. "But if I get it, I'm sure this will help pay for my medicine," he said, holding up the watch and flipping it between his fingers. The silver glinted in the sun. Fujita blinked at him, glanced at his vest pocket, then looked at him again, eyes narrowed.

"Give that back, Himura. Right now."

"Come and get it," Kenji said with a grin. Fujita lunged at him and Kenji danced back. Fujita might be taller and stronger, but Kenji was much faster and more agile on top of that. Fujita snarled and lunged again, for the right this time, then coming from the left. Kenji stayed a step or two out of his reach, watching every move with narrowed eyes. One slip up and— He bumped into someone hard. Fujita's fist flew out, coming straight toward him. Kenji gritted his teeth and ducked. Fujita hit hard and an unfamiliar voice yelped in pain. Kenji took the moment of distraction to scramble out of the way and when he was a relatively safe distance, turned to see that the older boy had hit an unsuspecting fish monger right in the back. What was left of the days catch was now on the ground, some spilling into the next vendor's large bowls.

"Do you have something against fish, Fujita?" Kenji called. The boy glared at him and started to come toward him but then the fish monger turned around and grabbed Fujita by the collar.

"And just where do you think you're going, punk? I've got a whole days worth of fish that I can't sell anymore. Plus a bruise on my back. What are you going to do about it."

"It was an accident," Fujita said, trying to pry the man's large fist from his collar. "I'd appreciate it if you would let me go."

"Like hell I will! You pick up all those fish--"

"And wash out these bowls!" the bowl merchant said, putting her hands on her hips.

"And wash out those bowls," continued the fish monger. "And I might reconsider asking your father to pay for the damages."

Fujita clenched his hands into fists and for a moment looked like he was going to fight. Then he sighed and bowed his head.

"Yes, sir."

"And an apology wouldn't be out of order either."

"I'm sorry, sir."

Kenji grinned so hard his face hurt. This was better then he could have hoped. The great and mighty Fujita, reduced to picking up half rotten fish out of the street. He put the shinai back at his waist so he could toss the watch back and forth between his hands.

"If you had any honor in you, you'd be doing this too," said Fujita as he picked up a slimy catfish that had been dead for far longer then a day.

"I'm not picking anything up," Kenji said. "I'm not the moron who hit him."

Fujita scowled, his fist clenching around the catfish. Kenji took a few steps back, both to get away from the resounding smell and to give them some distance just in case Fujita decided to attack.

"You watch your mouth!" the older boy snarled. Kenji grinned and resumed flipping the watch up into the air. Fujita's hand twitched around the fish, his fingers digging into the slimy dead skin. Oh, he was mad. Too bad Fujita didn't even carry a shinai with him or Kenji could have goaded him into a real fight.

"Oh that's right." Kenji stopped flipping the watch and instead tapped it lightly against his chin in thought. "It would be bad for other people to know that. After all, isn't the motto of your family baka soku zan?"

Fujita's fingernails cut into the fish, gray liquid oozed from the openings and Kenji wrinkled his nose. Ugh. How disgusting.

"Stop fooling around!" the old bowl vendor snapped. "I can't wait around here all day, you know!"

"Sorry, Ma'am," Fujita said with a bow. Kenji rolled his eyes. Fujita may be a better swordsman then he was, but he was still an idiot. If anyone had said anything like that to him, Kenji would have never let them get away with it! But that was the difference between them. Fujita just didn't have the right attitude about anything. He watched him a bit longer, trying to think of something else to goad him with. After a while, he gave up. It didn't matter anyway, it wasn't as if Fujita was armed. He really wasn't worth fighting. Besides, if he got caught fighting in the streets again Mama would make him stay in the house until he was fifteen!

"If you want your precious watch back, you have to fight me for it," Kenji said, flipping it into the air. Fujita didn't even look at him as he picked up a flounder gingerly from a wooden bowl and tossed it back into fish monger's basket.

"Tomorrow then," the older boy said, picking up the last fish. "In the woods near Rakuninmura." Fujita narrowed his eyes. Kenji tilted his head up and met Fujita's steely yellow eyes. Fujita didn't intimidate him one bit.

"I'll be there," he said. The corner of Fujita's mouth twisted up but his eyes remained narrow and cold.

"I just hope your mother doesn't cry too much when I carry your pathetic little corpse home."

"I hope your mother doesn't lose her mind when they can't find yours."

Kenji flipped the watch up into the air once more and caught it in his sleeve. Then turned and walked away, trying to keep a serious face. Inside he was smiling. Finally, a real match with Fujita. He'd never been in a real fight before, mostly just learning matches with Mama's students. That was boring. He was better then any of them and besides, Mama said that he had to teach them, not just beat them up. Though if they weren't so clumsy he wouldn't have such a hard time.

The walk home was uneventful. No villains that needed to be stopped ran across his path, no one in trouble. The only thing even somewhat eventful was an old man toddling out of his house, looking around, then ambling back in again. Kenji sighed. This city was so very boring. His spirits lightened somewhat as the dojo came into view. He picked up his pace. The cherry tree that had been planted when he was born was almost over the wall now and in full bloom. The slightest wind would send pink and white petals everywhere. He should climb it and pick a few for mother.

He stopped before the wall, gathering his legs under him and jumped. He missed the ledge by a few inches and only managed a fall by grabbing onto it, the hard concrete digging into his palm. Grumbling to himself, he slapped the other hand on the ledge as well and kicked himself up. There was a soft tear and as he rose to stand on the wall he saw that his hakama was ripped.

He cursed softly. This was the fourth time this week. Mama was going to give him quite a few lumps if she had to sew it again and flowers wouldn't be enough to placate her. Stupid wall.

Though maybe... Plucking a few flowers from the top most branch just for luck, he jumped down, only stumbling a little. A high pitched giggle floated on the wind and he couldn't help but smile. Absently tucking the flowers behind his ear, he followed the sounds of the laughter until he found Inoi and Shinta playing behind the shed. Inoi's back was turned to him, but Shinta saw him and his mouth split into a wide grin, revealing the missing front tooth. Kenji put a finger to his lips and Shinta nodded.

Flexing his fingers, Kenji crept up behind Inoi. No sooner then he had come a finger length from her then she screamed "Attack!" and he found himself with an armful of little sister, mercilessly tickling his ribs.

"Ahh!" Kenji yelped, the force of her attack sending him to his rear. With a wild woop, Shinta joined her and soon Kenji was writhing with laughter under their tickling fingers and trying not to inhale Shinta's thick black hair as the boy leaned over him.

"Enough, enough," he said when he could finally breathe. The twins relented. Shinta rose to his feet and for a moment, Inoi looked like she was going to as well, but then her lower lip pulled out and before Kenji could stand himself, she sat on his legs, folding her arms.

"Where have you been, niichan?" she said, violet eyes stern in her small face. Kenji smiled, leaning back on his hands.

"Out and about," he said, amused and a little frightened at how much Inoi looked like their mother.

"You've been fighting again, haven't you? Papa says he doesn't like you hanging around the Fujitas."

Kenji blinked a little startled. Before he could speak, Shinta broke in.

"Niichan was out practicing. He told me so! With Kazuo."

"Then why does he have bruises?" Inoi said. Her eyes narrowed. "And he smells like that funny smoke."

"It's none of your business what I was doing," Kenji said, suddenly a little annoyed. The bruises were from Kazuo actually, but only because Myojin Kazuo cheated in just about everything.

He got up, dumping his little sister off his lap. Shinta looked up at him, tugging on the edge of his sleeve.

"You weren't fighting, were you? And you weren't with Fujita, were you?"

"Not fighting," he said honestly. Winning. He picked up his shinai from where it had fallen on the ground.

"Inoi! Shinta! Supper!" Mama's call rang out across the courtyard. Kenji put a hand to his stomach. Maybe he should have stayed out a bit longer.

"I'm telling!" Inoi said. "And I'm telling her you ripped your hakama again too!"

"Don't you dare!" Kenji snapped, reaching for her, but she'd already rushed off. Probably directly into Mama's line of sight,

"Again?" Shinta said, crouching and peering at Kenji's hakama. "Mama is going to get really mad at you."

Not if he could change out of them first. "Go distract her," he said, pulling his brother to his feet and giving him a little shove. Shinta balked.

"I don't want to!"

"Come on, don't be such a little coward! Here." He felt around in his hair, found the flowers missing and finally spotted them lying broken on the ground. He grabbed them up and stuffed them into Shinta's small hand. "Give her these and tell her she's beautiful. She always falls for that one."

"But..." Shinta said with a frown.

"Do it!" Kenji hissed, pushing a little harder. Shinta hesitated a moment, then took off, bare feet slapping against the earth.

Kenji waited a moment or two, then crept close to the edge of the shed, pressing himself flat against the wood and peering around the corner. Mother stood on the engawa, listening to something Inoi was saying. She was wearing a dark blue kimono that showed the rounded bulge of their new sibling. Her head snapped up suddenly and he sucked in his breath, pressing himself even flatter, wishing he could become absorbed into the wood. But it seemed that it was only Shinta that caught her attention, racing up to her and waving a handful of wilted flowers.

He watched as she took the tiny broken blossoms in her hands. Then, counted to ten under his breath and made a run for it, dashing across the courtyard to the back of the house as fast as he possibly could.

He reached it safely enough and kicked off his shoes before hopping up on the engawa and carefully sliding back the shoji. There was no one about but faint sounds coming from the kitchen meant that father had either cooked or was trying to salvage whatever Mama had made while she was distracted elsewhere. In either case, he would have to slip by before he was caught. As he approached the kitchen, he kept himself close to the wall. The smells coming from the room were good, which meant that father had probably done the cooking. Part of him uncoiled with relief. As he came to the doorway, he once again pressed himself against the wall and peered around. Father's back was to him as he stirred something. That didn't mean anything. Father always seemed to know he was around. He would have to be extra careful. Holding his breath, Kenji started to sneak by him.

"I'm glad you made it home, dinner is just about ready," father said pleasantly, causing Kenji to freeze in mid-stride. "But you really shouldn't hang around Saitou Tsutomu, de gozaru." Kenji scowled. Damn Fujita and his damned cigarettes.

"His name is Fujita," Kenji said stiffly. Father finished whatever it was he was doing and turned around, fixing Kenji a smile that matched the tone of his voice. Pleasant, polite, and completely fake.

"A wolf by any other name is still a wolf. In either case..." he trailed off and sighed. "That's the fourth time this week."

Kenji wondered what he was talking about, then remembered his hakama. Rather than admit he still couldn't jump over the wall, he folded his arms tightly across his chest and stared off down the hall, staring hard at the shoji. Father sighed. "Well we still have some time to fix you up before dinner. Come on."

Kenji stiffened, wanting to refuse. He wasn't a child; he didn't need to be taken care of all his life. On the other hand the alternative was mother. Kenji nodded curtly and started down the hall toward his room. Father's arm slipped over his shoulders. The warmth and the weight of it made Kenji relax in spite of himself. No matter how fake his Father's smiles usually were, this... this was different. He let out a long breath, feeling his frustration drain away. It looked like he was still a kid in some ways. He moved just a little bit closer to his papa's side. A ghost of a smile drifted across Father's face and he squeezed his shoulder gently.

"I can take care of myself you know," he grumbled, not that he was particularly angry anymore, but there was no need to let Father know that.

"I know you can," Father said. "But Tsutomu goads you into trouble so easily. Especially around cabbages for some reason."

Kenji stiffened as Father moved around him to slide back the shoji that lead to his room. "There's no proof that that even happened!" he snapped, glaring into his father's smiling face.

"The truth remains whether there is proof or not. Besides, I know you." He clapped a large hand onto Kenji's head and ruffled his fingers in his hair. "You'd find trouble in a locked room." There was some amusement to Father's voice and Kenji had the distinct feeling he was being laughed at. Scowling, he pushed his father's hand away and marched into his room.

Once inside Kenji slumped against the wall, folding his arms tightly across his chest and glaring at the man who just stood there, smiling at him. He'd heard all the stories, countless times from many different people. The tales of the great battousai and then the gentle wanderer who nonetheless managed to save his country more than once. When he was a kid, he had believed every word. But now, looking at his father highlighted by the glow of the setting sun, he knew better. Himura Kenshin wasn't a warrior. He was just a man, just a father. There were gray streaks in his red hair and lines around his eyes. Even the legendary scars on his cheek were merely thin lines, almost completely invisible. Kenji had seen him all stiff in the mornings and had seen him limp when he thought Mama wasn't looking. His days as a swordsman were long gone, if they had ever existed at all. Faded into some grainy history.

Father's smile faded a bit. "Aaa... That's a look I've seen many times."

"What is that supposed to mean?" Kenji asked, more than a little annoyed. He hated it when Father said strange things. And it was even more annoying when he didn't explain them. The smile was back almost immediately and Father held up his hands.

"Never mind. Now, stay there. I'll be right back…" He stood just as there was a light knock on the shoji. Kenji stiffened, ready to bolt. Father smiled warmly.

"Aaa, your mother wouldn't knock, my Kenji."

Kenji relaxed a bit. That was true. Still, if it was Inoi, it wouldn't be much better. He shifted so he could see who was standing on the other side as father opened the shoji. Shinta stood there, holding a wooden box in his small hands.

"Papa, Kenji-niichan has a rip in his hakama," Shinta said, holding up the box. "You better sew it up before Inoi tells Mama."

Instead of bending down, Father knelt to Shinta's level and took the box from him. Father's smile seemed to grow even warmer as he looked at the little boy, his entire face softening. Kenji rolled his eyes and looked away.

"Thank you, Shinta-chan. Why don't you go help your Mama put out dinner….and…make sure she doesn't try to…improve on it."

"Okay, Papa."

Kenji plopped down cross legged on the floor, turning his head to watch as Shinta ran down the hall. Father shut the shoji and knelt in front of him. He watched his father pull out a needle and squint in the dim light as he tried to thread it. Even though he was glad that it wasn't his Mama, Kenji was still a little annoyed. What kind of man sewed, anyway? Uncle Yahiko didn't sew, and he couldn't imagine Fujita's father anywhere _near_ a needle.

"So what were you out doing today?" Father said, lifting the hakama and starting to push the needle through it. Kenji shrugged. Even though he wasn't much of a swordsman, Father seemed to know anything. He could pick out the truth of whatever Kenji said, no matter how he said it. Instead he just sat in silence, watching Father work. The light fell on them both, making an orangy triangle on the sleeve of Father's soft green gi. It was old and worn, patched so many times like all of their clothes it seemed. He glanced up the sleeve, picking out the little imperfections. Father was just like his gi, Kenji couldn't help but think, glancing at a thin white scar along his father's neck. There was another one on his collarbone, a few across his chest. Old scars, but still evidence of someone who'd been beaten often.

Well that was never going to happen to him. He was going to beat everyone that ever challenged him. Even if they were fifteen and stronger than him by far. But if he was going to beat him, he wasn't going to do it with a shinai or a bokken. He needed something a lot better. Though asking for something like that… Well he knew he really couldn't ask Mama. Not if he didn't want another lesson in the principals of the Kamiya Kasshin style anyway. But maybe…

"Papa…"

"Mm?"

Kenji hesitated. How to word this? It had to be just right.

"I'm thirteen now. Almost a man."

Father smiled and Kenji narrowed his eyes. It almost seemed like Father was laughing at him. Well he was almost a man! Yahiko-ji was fighting people at ten even so if he was a man at that age, then Kenji was even more of one!

"I am a man!" he said hotly.

"Aaa, that you are," Father said, trying off the string and breaking it off before sitting back. "Almost."

Kenji's bit down. Why did Father have to add the almost'? Kenji _was_ man. More than his father realized.

"I want a sword," he bit out. "A real one."

Father's expression shifted a little, the smile was still on his face but there was a hardness in his eyes and something else to. Something Kenji couldn't place.

"You don't need a sword, Kenji." he said, sounding a little tired as he put the needle and thread away. "Why do you want one? Is someone threatening you?"

"No," Kenji said, a little irritated. Even if someone was, it wasn't anything Kenji couldn't handle himself. "But I want one." A shinai just wasn't enough for him anymore.

"The Kamiya Kasshin style is not one that requires a bladed weapon."

"I know all that!" Kenji snapped. "But I don't want to do that style. I want to do my own style. I want to learn the Hiten Mitsurugi. I want a sword." It all came in a rush. He wanted Father to understand, even as he had the sinking feeling that wasn't going to happen.

"A sword only leads to bloodshed," Father said, gathering the box and standing. "Not only will you be in danger, but the ones closest to you as well."

"But…but a sword can protect as well," Kenji said, staring hard at his father. That was true! And Father liked to protect people. Or at least he used to. Besides, that was what the Kamiya Kasshin style was all about, wasn't it? The sword that protected.

"So can a bokken or a shinai. You don't need a sword and I don't ever want to see you with one, is that clear?"

"That's just stupid!" Kenji yelled, jumping to his feet and balling his hands into fists. "Even Fujita has one!"

"What Saitou chooses to do with his own family makes no difference. You're not to have a sword, Kenji."

"That's not fair!"

"Life isn't fair." Father's face softened a little. "But sometimes a shinai or a bokken are even better then swords." His voice had gone back to being almost pleasant, but there was still rebuke in it. Kenji glared at him, clenching and unclenching his fists. How could he not understand!? He was supposed to be the great swordsman, yet he was forcing Kenji to be stuck with a stupid shinai. Father just wanted him to be weak for the rest of his life, that was all.

"It will be all right," Father said, reaching out for him. "You'll understand one day."

"Shut up," Kenji snapped, avoiding his touch. "You're the one that doesn't understand. Even though you _should._"

Father didn't say anything. Not a single damn thing. Just looked at him, his face completely unreadable. Suddenly Kenji hated him. Hated looking at him. Hated even being in the same house. He stalked from the room, slamming open the shoji and nearly running into Mama who was coming toward his room.

"Dinner's ready, Kenji," she said with a strained smile.

"I'm not hungry," he snarled, moving past her. Something grabbed his sleeve and he glanced down to see Shinta hanging onto him.

"Don't go, Kenji," the boy pleaded.

"Let me go, Shinta."

"But I want you to be here! I want to sit beside you at dinner!"

He was so whiny. I want to sit beside you at dinner! Such a little suck up. Kenji was sick of him. Sick of everything.

"I said get off!" He shoved Shinta. His little brother took a few steps back, tripped over his own stupid feet and fell back.

"Shinta!" Mama said. There was a slight tremor in the floor and suddenly Papa was there, catching Shinta before he could crash into the wall.

"Are you all right?" Father asked. Shinta blinked a few times, then tears welled in his eyes and he started crying, wrapping his arms around Father's neck. Kenji rolled his eyes. Shinta hadn't even been _hurt._ The little wimp.

"Kenji, you shouldn't pick on your little brother like that!" Mother said, putting a hand on her belly as if to protect it.

"I wasn't picking on him! I just gave him a little push! It's not like I hit him with the shinai!"

"If all you're going to do is bully others then you don't deserve a shinai," Father said in a hard voice. "Much less a sword."

It was just a push! Shinta would go through much worse when he started training! Why was everyone going against him today?! It just wasn't fair!

"Fine! Then I don't want this stupid shinai!" He tore it from his back and threw it down the hall. "I'll just become a weak little coward just like the rest of the family!"

"You're the weak one, Kenji!" It was Inoi who said it; she had come out from around Mama and was folding her arms, glaring at him. He was tempted to shove her too. "All you know how to do is be mean to people because you can't get what you want."

Hmph. She was just a little girl. What did she understand about _anything._ Well fine. If they were all going to be against him, then let them. He would just go…stay somewhere else. Turning on his heel, he stomped out of the house, slamming the shoji hard behind them. He didn't need them anyway! Who cared? He would go get something to eat and get his own sword! And he would kick Fujita's ass then go on his way to becoming the strongest swordsman in all of Japan. He would and he wouldn't let anyone stop him. Not even Father.


	2. Kaoru and Kenshin

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A/N: Yoshiwara is the redlight district (ie where the prostitutes are)

---

The pile rose up beside her, almost up to her elbow if she was sitting down. It was varied too. A gi, a kimono, a small tabi, but they all had one thing in common, they needed to be sewed. Kaoru sighed as she took the little black tabi off the top of the pile and inspected the rip. Did other families generate these many holes? Kenshin had said he'd take care of it, of course, but in reality, Kaoru didn't mind. It reminded her that her family was around, live, vital, and wearing holes into things. She shifted into a more comfortable position, flinching slightly as the baby shoved a lazy fist against her. He, or she, was certainly going to be an active one. She smiled and rubbed a hand over her belly. A soft wind came in from outside, stirring her hair. She looked up and the smile faded from her face and from her heart. The shoji were open and some lanterns had been lit and hung outside, but there was nothing but darkness. It was getting awfully late.

Well Kenji would be all right. Kaoru frowned, searching the scrap pile for the appropriate patch for the tabi. He was older now and it wasn't the first time he'd been out this late. She bit her lip, trying to keep the emotions inside her from spilling over. It wasn't the first time he'd gotten into a fight with Kenshin either. Somehow he seemed to have changed overnight. The cute, polite, loving boy had been replaced with a snarling surly teenager. She couldn't even remember Yahiko being like that. Of course he was rude but…well yes and obnoxious too and thought he knew better than anyone. But even then, he seemed more mature than Kenji was now. Had she been too easy on Kenji growing up? Or maybe she had been too hard on him.

The sound of running feet distracted her and once again she glanced up. A moment later, Inoi came tearing into the room, saw Kaoru and came pelting toward her.  
"Mama, Mama you have to hide me," she said. Her small face was flushed, her hair a complete mess, springing up around her face like a red-brown dandelion. Kaoru couldn't help but smile.

"Come sit behind me," Kaoru said, reaching up to briefly touch the girl's face. Inoi nodded and scrambled straight through the scraps pile, sending them everywhere. Mou… But the warmth of her daughter's small hands on her back melted away her slight irritation. Instead she picked up a little black scrap of cloth that had once been part of a yakuta, picked up the needle and started to sew the little patch on.

A heartbeat later, Kenshin appeared in the doorway, Shinta sitting high on his shoulder. Kaoru's smile widened and she was overcome with the sudden urge to go to him and wrap her arms around him. But that would only ruin the game so she stayed where she was and just smiled at him with all the feeling she had inside her. He smiled back, eyes wrinkling around the corners.

Ahhh. She loved him so much!

"Aaa, Kaoru-dono, I'm looking for a little girl," he said. "About…this tall," he said, holding up his hand to his shoulder. Inoi's hands clenched in her yakuta and she could feel a giggle being stifled against her back.

"Papa," Shinta frowned. "Papa, Inoi isn't that tall."

"Oh?" Kenshin looked at Shinta. "This tall?" he asked, raising his hand above his head. Shinta shook his head fiercely.

"No. Inoi's shorter than I am."

"I am not!" Inoi squeaked. Then gasped. Kaoru couldn't stop smiling even if she wanted to. Shinta gasped too.

"There she is Papa! I see her!"

"Where?" Kenshin said, craning his head in first one direction, then another and finally looking up as if he expected to see her clinging to the ceiling. Shinta giggled.

"There!" he pointed. "Hiding behind Mama."

Kaoru felt the rush of air as Inoi stood and twisted her head back to see her daughter glaring fiercely at her brother.

"Aww, Shinta! You told!"

Shinta looked abashed.

"Oh! Sorry, Inoi-chan!"

Kenshin came into the room and knelt in a fluid movement in front of Kaoru so he could look at Inoi. He still had a swordsman's grace, even though he hadn't even really picked up a sword for years. Kaoru glanced at him sidelong from under her lashes, taking in the curve of his jaw, the line of his neck the breadth of his shoulder. It wasn't long before she began thinking thoughts that were not at all appropriate when there were children about, and especially not good for a pregnant woman. A sharp prick as the needle jabbed into her finger bought Kaoru back to the sewing.

"There you are, little Inoi," Kenshin said, thankfully oblivious to Kaoru's thoughts. "You look pretty tired. Are you ready for bed yet?"

"No," said Inoi and Kaoru felt the girl's small strong arms wrap around her neck in a hug. "I'm going to stay up and help Mama."

"Are you?" Kenshin said, raising his eyebrows. He seemed to think about this for a moment, then smiled and sat back. "Well that sounds like a good cause. We'll wait for you then."

Shinta slid down from Kenshin's shoulder into his lap and Kenshin wrapped an arm around him, holding him close. Inoi made a small annoyed noise in the back of her throat.

"Here," said Kaoru, pulling one of Inoi's own yakuta from the middle of the pile. One of the sleeves was ripped almost completely off. She'd never quite heard the story behind that one. She handed the yakuta back to the little girl. "I'll get your needle and thread all ready."

Inoi frowned, her lower lip pulling into a pout. Then she sighed heavily and took the yakuta anyway, sitting down beside Kaoru and scooting closer to her side. Kaoru smiled, threading a needle for her. She took the needle carefully and got to work, little wrinkles forming in her brow as she concentrated. Kaoru couldn't help but watch her. Every part of her was special, from the way she clumsily sewed to the way her nose scrunched up like a rabbit's when she was amused.

"Aaa. Karou-dono is pretty all the time, but I think she is especially beautiful when she smiles like that." Kenshin's voice was quiet but his words filled her with warmth and made her insides positively melt.

"Mama's blushing," Shinta said quietly. Kaoru put a hand to her face and felt the heat there. Mou… Kenshin always made her blush like that. She looked up at her husband, putting a hand absently on her stomach.

"Kenshin…" she said, wishing she knew the words to tell him how lucky she felt. Even though they had been married for thirteen years, there was never a time when she felt he didn't love her. Or, if there was, she couldn't remember it.

"Mama would smile a lot more if Kenji wasn't such a stinker," Inoi announced. And just like that, Kaoru's heart twisted and she looked anxiously past Kenshin's shoulder into the darkness beyond. Kenji was still out there somewhere.

"Inoi-chan," Kenshin said, voice stern but gentle. "That's not very nice."

"Well it's true," Inoi mumbled. Kaoru forced a smile and ran a hand through her daughter's hair.

"You're doing a very good job on that. I think you can do it all on your own now. You keep at it while I go to get some tea." She shifted her weight, bracing one hand on the floor and covering her belly with the other as she rose to her feet. Oof. No matter how many children she had, she didn't think she'd ever quite get used to being pregnant. Smiling at her little family, she waddled past them and out into the engawa. It was a full moon and a clear night.

Everything was bathed in a white glow, making it easy to see. At least Kenji would be able to find his way home easily. But, on the other hand, anyone would be able to find him. A cool breeze with a hint of remaining winter chill swirled around her and she wrapped her arms around herself, rubbing her shoulders. She closed her eyes, trying to remember what Kenji used to be. The sweet toddler that would be content to sit and stare for hours. The helpful boy who couldn't be pried from the dojo with a lever. Why was he like this now? What had happened to her little boy?

Warm arms wrapped around her shoulders and she was suddenly wrapped in the scent of Kenshin as he pulled her back against him. She smiled, even though tears pricked at her eyes.

"Don't worry, my Kaoru," he said in his soft way, his lips tickling her ear, then the side of her neck as he placed a little kiss there. "As soon as we put the twins to bed, I'll go look for him."

"He's not really bad," she said, reaching up to rub the moisture from her eyes. "He's not. He's just… just spirited. Confident." Even though he seemed to get into fights more and more lately and couldn't seem to stay out of trouble.

"I know, I know." He kissed her temple and sighed softly, the warmth of his breath tickling through her hair. "Our Kenji will come around, de gozaru."

"Oh, Shinta…" Inoi said from behind them. Kaoru blinked at the exasperation in her daughter's voice. She twisted her head to give her husband a curious look. He shrugged.

"What's wrong, little Inoi?" he called.

"It's Shinta," Inoi called back. "He fell asleep right on my yakuta."

Kaoru reluctantly disentangled herself from Kenshin's arms and turned to peer into the room. Shinta had indeed fallen asleep on her half sewn yakuta, one hand curled in his hair, the thumb of his other lodged firmly in his mouth. Inoi tugged at her yakuta firmly with no effect, then gave them a forlorn look. Kenshin laughed softly.

"It's all right. I think that's enough sewing for tonight." He crossed into the room and lifted Shinta easily. The little boy curled closer to his father, wrapping a small arm around his neck.

"I think you should go to bed," Kaoru said, holding out her hand for Inoi. "It's a big day tomorrow and you need your rest." Inoi nodded and let the yakuta fall before coming over and grabbing her hand. Kaoru tried not to think of where the needle could have ended up and instead followed Kenshin to the twins' room. A long time ago, it used to be Yahiko's. But now he was grown up with children of his own. So much had changed over the years but…for the most part it had only gotten better.

Kenshin set Shinta in his futon and then tucked Inoi in hers since if Kaoru got down it would take some effort to get back up again. A light flared in the room as Kenshin lit the lantern that was set well away from the futons, but close enough to protect the children from nightmares. For an instant, his face was basked in the light. He had gotten older…but now when she looked at him…he didn't seem quite so tired anymore. He moved away from the lantern, his face lost in shadows, only to be highlighted again as he came toward her. Kaoru smiled and held out her hand to him. Kenshin slipped his palm against hers, lifting her hand to his lips briefly before twining his fingers through hers. Connected. Grounded. Together. They had always stood through everything together. Together, they were strong.

"Good night," Kenshin murmured to the children, before sliding the shoji shut, but leaving it open just a crack. Kaoru squeezed his hand tightly. Together they walked down the hall and out into the engawa. The courtyard was still filled to the brim with moonlight and somehow the stars seemed closer than they were before.

"It might take me a while to find him," Kenshin said after a while. Kaoru smiled and tried not to think about where he could be. What he could be up to.

"I'm sure you will find him."

"Aa, that I will. And I will bring him home to you, my Kaoru." Kenshin put a hand to her cheek. It was rough and callused, but Kaoru had never wanted anything more. "So get some rest. You need it. It's been a long day."

"All right." She would try. She really would. Kenshin leaned down and brushed his lips over hers. Then he knelt and pressed his lips against her belly.

"You stay in there until I get back," he said in a stern voice, rubbing her belly gently. The baby nudged in response. Kaoru laughed and shook her head.

"Just because the twins decided to come early doesn't mean this one will as well." "I'm only making sure," he said, giving another kiss to baby. "I don't need any more gray hairs."

He stood then, giving her belly one final pat before turning and going down the steps, crossing the courtyard slowly. Kaoru leaned her head on the support post, watching him go. It wasn't the first time she'd watch him leave, his hair swaying with his movement. It was a bit shorter now but the effect was the same. And even now, she resisted the urge to run up behind him and grab him back to her. But it was all right, Kenshin wasn't going anywhere. He would be back soon because, among other things, he had so much to return to. She smiled and rubbed her belly lightly, watching him until he disappeared through the gate. Then she sighed.

"Well I think I'm about ready for bed," she said to the child nestled within her. But they both knew that was a lie. Instead of going directly to their room, she went the extra distance to Kenji's and pulled back the shoji.

This had been Kenshin's room. She remembered how it looked when he slept here. So barren except for the futon folded neatly in the corner, sometimes with the sakabatou resting against the wall. It had been the room of a wanderer. One that would leave at any time with nothing to attach him to any place. But now… now it was a disaster. The futon was still in the middle of the floor, unrolled, blankets crumpled every which way. There was a stack of clothes in one corner, a pile of books in the other. A torn kite hung on the wall. Kenji's first kite, actually, that had died a violent death on a spiky tree but was still not forgotten. Kenshin had nearly gotten stuck himself trying to untangle it, but they had laughed and laughed. And when the kite finally came fluttering down, Kenji looked at his father like he was the greatest man in the world.

Holding her belly, she carefully knelt on the floor and leaned over to straighten Kenji's bed so it would be all ready when he came back. And he would be back. Kenshin would bring him back safe and sound because that was what he always did. And she would do what she always did and wait for him to come back home.

---

Kenshin stood on the roof, scanning the street below carefully. Tokyo sprawled around him, mostly asleep, though a few light still burned on in distant windows. The moon was out, bright and full, but still there wasn't a sign of Kenji anywhere. He narrowed his eyes. Despite the fact that they'd had peace for almost ten years now, Tokyo was still a dangerous city and even more so at night. There were many things that could happen to a young boy. Especially a young boy who seemed to throw himself into trouble.

Right now, however, worrying wasn't going to solve anything. Kenshin glanced up, absently picking the northern star out of its neighbors. If he was a thirteen-year-old boy having a temper tantrum, where would he go? Was he ever a thirteen-year-old boy? Some days it felt like he'd been this age forever. Kenshin closed his eyes and tried to think. When he was younger and shishou had driven him out of his mind, where did he go? The forest…? Suddenly he remembered sitting on a rooftop, seeing the faint lights of the sleeping Kyoto flickering below him. He replaced the image of himself with one of Kenji. He imagined the wind lifting Kenji's red hair…the boy rising to his feet with the easy movement that was completely natural to him. A roof plate slipping unexpectedly and sending Kenji tumbling down and cracking his head open in the alley below.

Kenshin shuddered and opened his eyes. The afterimages of bright red blood splattered on the wood frame of a house stayed in his mind. He tried to shake it away, took a deep breath to try to erase the memories of the smell of blood. It was something he deserved to live with, he knew. To remember all the lives he had taken. But it was not helpful when he was looking for his son.

Besides, despite the fact that Kenji took after him in looks, he was someone completely different. As much as he'd watched his son, he'd never seen the boy on a roof. Kenji seemed to prefer walking along the edge of the dojo wall…or sometimes the bridge. In fact, he seemed to be attracted to water. When he was younger, they couldn't keep him away from it. Aaah, perhaps he was by the bridge. If not, there was one other place Kenshin knew he might be. But it would be better for both of them if Kenshin didn't catch the boy in Rakuninmura again. Kenshin walked gingerly to the edge of the roof, so as not to wake the people below, and made a controlled leap to the ground. Landing sent a bright stab of pain right up his leg and into his hip, sending him down to one knee. He felt like he'd landed on a katana.

Ugh. He squeezed his eyes shut as he stood, the pain continuing to lance through him. Reaching back, he rubbed his hip, trying to get it to stop hurting. That was going to ache in the morning. He was getting too old for rooftops. Too old for a lot of things. It really wasn't fair. Saitou didn't seem this old, aah, but the old wolf probably drank blood to keep himself young. Shishou too, now that he thought of it. But according to some of Kazuo-chan's western stories, it was nothing a stake through the heart couldn't cure.

Once he felt like he could walk without limping too badly, he started forward once more, trying to ignore the pain. Tokyo rose around him, silent and drowsy. A cat trotted across his path, disappearing into a dark alley. It was deceptively peaceful. He'd seen too much happen here to be lulled into a false sense of security. Though sometimes he wondered what it would be like to not have to worry about who might be lurking just around the corner. But he was too old to dream too long about things that would never be. Besides, things were wonderful as they were now. More than wonderful. Even Kenji's attitude was a mere bump in the road compared to the times when he thought he would never see the light of another day.

Though he was too wary to be taken in by the city, memories were more deceptive still and he found himself coming to the bridge sooner than he'd thought. And there he was, so small and alone, standing in a pool of light cast by the lantern. He was sitting on the edge of the bridge, staring up into the starry night sky. He looked so peaceful and innocent sitting there. Just a child, no blood on his hands, the whole world out before him. Kenshin could remember the first time he'd ever held Kenji, the weight of his tiny perfect body…the sticky warm splatter of regurgitated milk on his neck. In his hair. On his hands. Practically whenever he picked the child up. Yahiko still teased him about knowing when he was coming by the smell of sour milk. But never once did Kenji spit up on Kaoru. Oh no. He'd always been too smart a kid for that.

"You think he's got anything on him?" a harsh whisper from the darkness. Kenshin's eyes narrowed and he stiffened. Were they behind him? No, in front of him, standing on the bank and hiding in the shadow of the bridge.

"Doubt it. He's just a kid. But, I'm in the mood for fun. Let's see if we can make him cry."

Kenshin's hand flew to his side where the sakabatou wasn't. He curled his hands into a fist, nails digging into his palms. The fact that these grown men would beat up a child for any reason, let alone such a stupid one, was intolerable in itself. But they wanted to harm his child. His son. For no other reason than because they were in the "mood" for it. He could stop them now, but if he'd arrived just a moment later…. Images flashed in his mind of Kenji bruised and bloody. Of these shadowy men looming over him. His blood boiled inside of him and he longed for the weight of the sakabatou. The feeling of the hilt in his hands. He wanted to feel the impact when the dull edge hit them, wanted to see their bodies crashing into the river.

And getting back out again, he firmly reminded himself. And getting back out again. Because even though they had every intention of harming his little boy, they hadn't done so yet. And wouldn't get a chance to do so. In fact, if they were smart, they wouldn't even get hurt at all. The men started to move from the shadows and Kenshin moved swiftly to intercept them, standing in front of them, blocking their path. They were young men, stupid looking, covered with bruises as if they had been beaten not too long ago. Kenshin couldn't help but feel a small twinge of sympathy for them.

"I suggest you gentleman find your entertainment somewhere else, that I do," he said, not even bothering to try to sound pleasant. Hopefully they would become intimidated and leave. He had learned a bit of jujitsu in place of the sakabatou just so he wouldn't be completely defenseless, but if they really wanted to get into a fight, he was going to have a hard time.

"Whatchu gonna do?" one of the men asked, throwing a sloppy punch. Kenshin batted his wrist away easily with the back of his hand. The second punch was as easy to block as the first but the man seemed to be getting frustrated. Kenshin watched the man's companion out of the corner of his eye who, for the moment, seemed content to watch bemused at his friend's trouble.

"What are _you _doing out here?" the young voice behind him made his heart jump. He nearly missed the idiot's third punch, grabbing his wrist a moment before the man's fist sunk into his stomach. The movement had been quicker than he'd expected and he felt the strength of the man's arm as he tried to pull away. Perhaps not so weak after all. Who knew about his companion. The situation was more dangerous by the second.

"Kenji," Kenshin started, "Get--"

"Hey, Junnichi," his opponent's companion interrupted. "It is that kid from earlier! I told you it was!"

"Well don't just stand there, get the little bastard!" snapped his opponent. "I'll deal with pops here."

"No!" Kenshin said, reaching out to stop the other man. Just then the one named Junnichi jerked his hand free and let loose a flurry of punches, controlled and fast. Not fast enough so that Kenshin couldn't dodge easily, but it was still irritating. This would be so much easier if even he'd thought to take a bokken with him, or pick up a stick. Finally he managed to grab Junnichi's wrist again and in a quick movement, twisted the man's arm behind his back, jerking up until he heard the pop of the man's shoulder dislocating. Juunichi howled in pain. Kenshin moved around him and started toward the other man who had all but cornered his son on the bridge.

"Didn't we talk about this, Jiro?" Kenji said, voice strong and unafraid, despite the fact this man was at least two times his size. The boy was so—

"I don't want to have to beat your ass twice in one day," Kenji continued. Kenshin was startled to a stop. _What? _

There was a sharp whistle from behind him and he glanced over his shoulder to see Junnichi was the one that had made it. Over the noise came the sound of running feet. More of them. Wonderful.

"Kenji, run away," he called.

"No!"

No? This was no time for the boy to be stubborn!

"Kenji, _now. _There are more of them coming!" Just as he spoke, he saw the first appear on the bridge, running at full speed toward him, others behind him, four in all. If Kenji started running now he should—

"I'm not going anywhere! I'm not a baby!"

Kenshin bit back the fresh surge of annoyance that made the blood pound in his ears. He started toward his son, just as his first attacker pulled a staff from his back and swung at him. Kenshin ducked, grabbed the staff before the man could start a back swing and jammed it back into the man's neck. He gagged and fell back, his grip loosening. Kenshin jerked the staff from his grip, shifted his grip on it and whirled around, catching the man in the back of his legs, sending him tumbling to the ground. The other three were still running onto the bridge. It was too dangerous to go to Kenji now and let these men get behind him. Kenshin took a moment to adjust for the lighter weight and the longer reach of the staff, before charging forward. He caught the first man in the chin, the second in the stomach and the back of the head before sending the third flying hard into the bridge's stone railing. He stopped, geta sliding a bit before he stopped completely, and turned back toward his son. Kenji was avoiding Jiro's well aimed punches with a skill that startled Kenshin. How long had it been since he'd watched his son practice? Jiro swung and Kenji jumped lightly on the bridge's railing.

Kenshin shifted the staff in his grip again and rushed toward the man, just as the man lunged for his son. He would have more than enough time to— Kenji jumped, landing on Jiro's head and pushing off with the ball of his foot, sending Jiro's face into the railing and sending himself directly into Kenshin's path. Kenshin had just enough time to drop his guard before his son crashed into him, sending them both sprawling hard onto the bridge's stone floor.

Once the spots had cleared from his eyes, the first thing he saw was his son's frowning face. There wasn't a scratch on him and he looked angrier than he did frightened. Kenshin didn't know whether to be relieved or annoyed.

"Kenji…" he started, reaching up to touch the boy's face, just to make sure. Kenji jerked back and rose to his feet, folding his arms across his chest. Aaa, that seemed to be his favorite pose lately. So tight and defiant, angry at everything in the world.

"I didn't need you to help me. I could have handled it fine on my own."

Kenshin frowned and sat up. His lower back twinged and he flinched, absently rubbing the spot. Waking up in the morning was not going to be pleasant. Maybe his beloved Kaoru might let him sleep in a little later.

"Aaa, confidence is a good thing, my Kenji," he said, rising to his feet a lot slower than he would have liked and dusting off the back of his hakama. "But there is a fine line between confidence and arrogance and the--"

"The latter can get you killed, I know." The boy plucked the staff off the ground where Kenshin had dropped it. "You've told me enough times," he muttered. _Well then maybe it was time you started listening, _Kenshin thought, biting back the words before he could speak them aloud. No one ever listened when they thought they were being antagonized, no matter how well intentioned the words were. Although Kenji never seemed to listen at all.

"So…" Kenshin prompted.

"So I could have taken care of it." Kenji insisted. Kenshin sighed inwardly. It was probably just a young boy's bravado. Yahiko had a lot of it too, but deep down he'd known when he was over his head. Kenji was probably the same way.

"Maybe so, but I'm still glad I came anyway." He started to raise his hand, wanting to put it on Kenji's small shoulder so he could guide him back home. Kenji stiffened, glaring at him and Kenshin sighed again, letting his hand fall to his side, then absently pulling it into his sleeve so he had something to do with it.

"I guess you want me to come home now," Kenji said, inspecting the staff for a brief second before tossing it casually over the railing.

"Your mother is worried."

"Mama worries about everything," Kenji said, moving past him to start back toward the house. Kenshin moved into step by his side and inwardly flinched at the bodies of the young men lying in prone positions around the bridge. If he hadn't done what he needed to do, they would have hurt Kenji. He knew this and yet right now they seemed younger than they had been, more vulnerable. How many of these boys still had fathers? Fathers that would sit up and worry about them? That would wonder over the livid bruises on their son's faces. He glanced at his own son's face, wondering his reaction. Would he be sad to see all that Kenshin had done? Afraid? It was hard to see his face in the dim light. The lanterns on the edge of the bridge highlighted Kenji's face and his expression made something twist in Kenshin's stomach. He still seemed more annoyed than anything. As if everything that had happened didn't mean a thing.

Suddenly he remembered the first thing that had made him pause on the bridge. Kenji had fought these boys before. At least the first two. Even though they were young, they were far older than his son, and seemed far more dangerous. What had his child been up to exactly?

"It seems you've had an altercation with those boys before," Kenshin said casually, glancing down the dark street and keeping his senses open for anyone else that might lurk out of the shadows. "This one wonders how that came about."

Kenji shrugged. A fight seemed no great deal to him. No, he must be misreading something. Kenji wouldn't just fight for the sake of it. Not his son.

"They're part of the Akamiitsu gang," he said blandly. "Any kid who goes through Yoshiwara has an altercation with them."

Kenshin tripped, nearly falling over. Yoshiwara? He stared at his child with wide eyes. What could Kenji have been doing in Yoshiwara? He wasn't… No, he couldn't be. He was thirteen. Not entirely impossible, said the traitorously logical part of his mind.

"Did…do…you meet anyone interesting in Yoshiwara?" Kenshin said, trying to speak normally and ending up sounding as if Kaoru was strangling him. Which was a circumstance that would likely come true if she ever caught wind of this.

Kenji shrugged again.

"No one really. Fujita just needed to check something out for his father so I went there with him."

Kenshin felt something unknot inside him. Well that was a relief…. Of a sort. He sighed heavily.

"Kenji… I really don't like you hanging around with Saitou's boy. "

"So?"

For a moment he thought he hadn't heard that right. He couldn't have heard that right. Kenji wasn't like that. Kenji was never like that. He'd just misheard. He better have just misheard.

"My apologies, I seemed to have missed that."

Kenji hesitated. Enough to know that he had indeed said what Kenshin thought he had but was beginning to rethink his answer. Kenshin watched him, waiting for whatever his son was going to say. He was just a child. Just a thoughtless boy, speaking first before really realizing it. He waited…and waited…but Kenji didn't seem to want to say anything at all. Kenshin slowly counted to ten, trying to force the irritation back to where it wouldn't cause problems. He needed to be calm for this. He needed to be in control of the situation.

When the annoyance had been beaten down once more, he moved in front of Kenji, blocking his path and sinking to the boy's level so he could look his son in the eye. His hip twinged with the movement but he did his best to ignore it. Kenji stopped and met his gaze. It seemed he was in the mood to listen, or at least wasn't just going to walk away.

"I know it might seem like I'm being unfair, but I'm just trying to protect you. I want to keep you safe."

"I can keep myself safe," Kenji said in a hard voice. Kenshin took a deep mental breath. Where did Kenji get this stubbornness from? Oh, Kaoru was certainly independent but even she knew where her limits were. It must come from him. It had to come from him. What would Shishou do in this situation? Aaa, but no matter what Shishou would do, Kenshin had made a promise to himself long ago that he would never do the same to his offspring.

"You're very talented, Kenji, I'm not denying that. But I think it would be best if you were a little safer about what you did."

"You didn't care what Uncle Yahiko did," Kenji countered. Aaa, and here he was folding his arms again. "Uncle Yahiko was fighting grown men when he was ten years old."

"I still cared, Kenji. I wouldn't let any harm come to him."

"But you trusted him enough to let him take care of himself. You didn't come after him and tell him to get home because he was a little late."

"Well he'd been taking care of himself for a long time before I knew him," Kenshin said, deciding to let the fact that it was well past midnight slide by. Yahiko had been more mature than Kenji too…and certainly not as stubborn.

"Well I can take care of myself too, Papa. I'm a lot better than he was! Even Mama says so. I'm brilliant!"

Wouldn't Shishou be pleased to know his temperament had skipped a generation? Kenshin cast his eyes to the ground, amusement and frustration coiling in him like snakes. Kenji's voice had been so eager and the Papa…. How long had it been since Kenji had called him that?

"Even if you are brilliant, it doesn't mean you should go looking for trouble." He reached out and touched the boy's shoulder, feeling the warmth and the strength there. He was a good boy. He really was. A little rambunctious, a little hotheaded, but all he needed was guidance, a little push in the right direction. Kenji snorted, rolling his eyes. Kenshin braced himself for the reply that he knew he wasn't going to like.

"What else is there to do around here?"

Kenshin stared at him. He'd been expecting sarcasm. A muttered explanation. Anything but what he heard. It couldn't be true. It couldn't be. Kenji had always been such a good boy. Decent. Caring. When had he turned into this? When had Kenshin stopped paying attention? Kenji looked away from him. But he wasn't ashamed. Annoyed, uncomfortable perhaps, but not ashamed. As if he really didn't care.

"It's not the end of the world," Kenji muttered.

"Kenji, it's dangerous. It's irresponsible." But it was more than that. Even though he knew he was stubborn as a child, even he didn't go looking for trouble.

"Other kids get into trouble all the time!" Kenji said, shrugging out from under Kenshin's hand.

"You are not other kids," Kenshin said sternly, rising to his feet. How could he word this? What could he say to make Kenji understand? He searched for the answers that he needed. Nothing seemed to be adequate.

"What do you want me to do? Just stay home and sit on my hands?"

"I want you to stay out of trouble," Kenshin said in a harder voice than he'd meant to. "I want you to be careful. I want you to stop picking fights and actually think about what you're doing." He wanted him to be the boy he used to be. The boy he used to _know._ Kenji threw up his hands.

"Fine, I'll be careful, I'll think. Are you happy?"

Somehow he doubted that. It was entirely too easy for him to give in like that.

"And stay out of trouble?"

"Yes!"

"And stop picking fights?"

"Yes, fine, okay. Can I go home now?" Then, without waiting for an answer, Kenji brushed by him, marching on the path back toward the dojo. It was all Kenshin could do not to grab his arm and… and… He let out a long slow breath, counting very slowly as he did so. Acting out of anger didn't solve things. He watched Kenji's small dwindling form as he strode into the darkness. He wanted to trust him. He wanted to believe this was the end of it. But it wasn't. He had the sinking feeling that it was only the beginning.

---

Much much love to Linda (the midwife) and Effie (the one who I show all the "baby pictures" to) This story wouldn't be here without you guys. T.T


	3. Morning Kata

He came awake slowly with something tickling his nose. The light behind his eyes told him that it was still early. Even though he'd been out pretty late last night, he knew he wasn't going to get back to sleep. Kenji stretched out his legs and frowned as he found one trapped by something. He suddenly realized that someone was lying right beside him, practically on top of him. He opened one eye and found himself looking at a mop of black hair. Kenji sighed and rolled his eyes.

Shinta… This wasn't the first time he'd woken up and found his little brother clinging to him. Sighing again, he tried to sit up. But not only was Shinta lying on his arm, which was starting to fall asleep, he had a tiny hand curled into Kenji's yukata.

"Aaa, Shinta-chan," Kenji said softly, shaking the boy's shoulder. "I can't get up if you don't move."

Shinta wrinkled his nose and after a few more gentle shakes opened his eyes, still a little bleary from sleep. Then he closed them again and curled even closer, tugging lightly at Kenji's clothes.

"I had a nightmare, niichan," he murmured.

"Well why didn't you go to Mama's room?"

"Well I went to their room but they were talking in serious voices about something and I didn't want to interrupt them."

Kenji tensed. They must have been talking about him. Was Father worrying Mama about what had happened on the bridge? It wasn't even a big deal. Besides, it's not as if he'd even started that fight. He'd just been sitting there. Mou, if Father had told Mama, he'd never see the end of it. She would just keep glancing at him with worried looks and check up on him every time he left the dojo. He was thirteen, not eight. Why didn't either of them seem to see that he could take care of himself? They didn't think he could do anything. Well, he would just have to prove them wrong somehow. But first, he needed to get up. Shinta had a strong grip though and it took a moment to pry himself away. The little boy grumbled something as he did so and rolled over, moving right off the futon and taking half the blanket with him. Kenji rolled his eyes, but couldn't help but smile.

He stood and took a moment to roll his brother back onto the futon and drop the blanket over his head. Shinta whimpered, squirming under the blanket for a second before pulling it down to his shoulder and clutching it to his chest. He stuck the thumb of his free hand in his mouth. Kids...

Kenji yawned widely, stretching his arms to the ceiling. Then rubbed a hand through his hair and padded out of the room and into the hall. He stopped by his parents room and listened closely, but there was nothing but the sound of deep breathing. Good. If Father was still asleep now, he'd sleep right through breakfast and if Kenji timed it just right, he wouldn't have to deal with Father at all this morning. He stuck his tongue out at the door before moving on. He stopped by the kitchen, taking the bucket from the corner, and made his way outside.

The sun hadn't even come up yet and the courtyard was lost in a sea of fog. It was a little too cold to be out here in just a yukata but it wasn't anything he couldn't handle. Still, he stayed on the relative shelter of the engawa for a moment, staring out and bracing himself for how cold he knew the ground would be. His shoes were on the other side of the house and he really didn't feel like walking all that way. Kenji stepped to the edge of the porch and looked down, imagining the fog was covering some bottomless pit and, if he jumped, he would fall forever. Jump he did though and the ground came solid and cold under his feet. Bah. He jogged to the well, filled the bucket and lugged it back to the kitchen, grabbing some firewood along the way. He set both in the kitchen, remembering to check the rice barrel this time and seeing they were almost out. With a heavy groan, Kenji went back outside, braving the freezing mist again to get a new bale from the shed. It was heavy on his back, but still he went as quickly as he could across the freezing ground to climb back on the engawa and deposit the new bale beside the old one. He double checked the kitchen, making sure everything was done before heading back to his room to change into his gi and hakama.

Shinta was still sleeping soundly, making soft slurping noises as he sucked on his thumb. Kenji watched him as he tied on his hakama. Shinta was his little brother and he loved him, but really what kind of boy still sucked their thumb at six? He'd stopped sucking his when he was one and a half, according to Mama. But Shinta didn't even seem to be interested in anything normal boys were. He didn't even care about kendo. Even Inoi cared about kendo and she was still back in the basics. Such a weird little kid. Kenji finally knotted his hakama and came over to his brother's sleeping form. Balancing on one foot, he carefully grabbed the blanket with the toes of his other and pulled it back over Shinta's head.

"Hey! Kenji!" the little boy whined. Kenji snickered and nudged Shinta's shoulder lightly with his foot.

"Better get up, little brother. Mama's going to be mad if those dishes aren't done when she gets up."

Shinta sat up, pulling the blanket from his head and staring up at Kenji with wide eyes.

"But, I did all the dishes last night, niichan."

"I dunno, Shinta," Kenji said, folding his hands behind his head and glancing in the direction of the kitchen. "There was a whole big stack when I went in there. With icky food bits still on it."

"Nuh uh!" Shinta said, sticking out his lower lip. "I know I washed them all."

"Well maybe some oni visited last night stole some dinner. In fact, Papa and I saw them as we were coming in. But they were just leaving so we didn't realize what they'd done until it was too late." He glanced at Shinta, trying to keep his face perfectly blank. The boy seemed to be considering this. His tiny hands worked and he clenched the blanket to his chest.

"Were they scary oni?" the boy asked in a near whisper. Kenji nodded solemnly.

"Scary and hungry. They left a stack of dishes as high as you." Kenji shrugged and folded his arms. "All I'm saying is that Mama's not going to be very happy at all once she sees that mess."

Shinta stared at him long and hard. Kenji stared back, keeping his gaze level, trying not to smile. Shinta's eyes went wide and round. Throwing back the covers, the boy flew from the room, feet padding down the hall. Kenji couldn't help but grin. He was such a gullible little—

"Mamaaaa!" Shinta's shriek blasted through the quiet house and made Kenji jump. Oh no! He tore out of the room himself and saw his brother racing down the hall toward their parents room. Ahh! No, no, no! Kenji took off after him, running as fast as he could. Shinta slammed the shoji open and Kenji lunged for him.

"Mamff!" Shinta said as Kenji managed to wrap a hand around his mouth. Mama was already up because she wasn't in the futon. Father was though and he raised his head, squinting at them. Then he sighed and pinched the bridge of his nose.

"Kenji, please…"

"It's not my fault," Kenji said. Well it sort of was, but not entirely. "Shinta--"

"It's not my fault either!" Shinta cried, pulling Kenji's hand away with surprising strength. Once completely free, the boy plowed into the room, tackling Father who let out a breath as Shinta slammed into him.

"I didn't know about the oni in the kitchen!" the boy wailed. "I would have done the dishes if I knew!"

"It was just a joke!" Kenji said, stepping further into the room to argue his case. Father was annoying enough and the last thing he wanted was another lecture. "I wouldn't have told him if I thought he'd take it so ser…i...ously…" Kenji trailed off as goosebumps shivered up his neck. There was something behind him. Something…dangerous. He slowly turned his head. Mother was standing there, bokken in one hand and a furious look on her face.

"Oro," he whimpered. .

CRACK!

Kenji dropped into a crouch, covering his aching head with both hands. Owwww. Mama could hit hard.

"Stop picking on your little brother!" Mama snapped. "And you better have those chores done!"

"Yes, Mama," he whimpered. He heard her stomp from the room and the patter of Shinta's feet as he went after her. There was the warmth and weight of Father's arm around his shoulder and Kenji allowed himself to be pulled back a little to rest against him. Gentle fingers probed his hair and Kenji winced as they hit a sore spot.

"That's quite a lump you have there," Father said, quiet amusement in his voice. "Maybe now you'll think twice about picking on Shinta."

It was just a joke. If he'd really been picking on Shinta he would have called him a crybaby. Which was true anyway. He moved away from Father and stood up, rubbing the sore spot again. It wasn't his fault that Shinta took everything so seriously.

"I'm going to go practice my kata," he muttered, starting from the room. Father fell in step beside him, limping slightly. Kenji looked up at him. A lot of the time he was annoyed with him, but sometimes it was nice to see him in the morning, even if he'd just gotten in trouble. Even if he was overprotective and completely unfair about a lot of things, Papa was… Papa was still….

"Whas all the screaming about?" Inoi said. Kenji looked for her and saw her standing just outside her room, rubbing her eye with the back of his hand. Father smiled warmly and ruffled her already tousled hair.

"Nothing to worry about, little Inoi."

"Just Shinta being a crybaby," Kenji muttered. Father sighed heavily but said nothing.

"Oh," said Inoi, slipping her small hand in Father's larger one and going with them down the hall. "That's just Shinta being Shinta."

Kenji tensed as they came closer to the kitchen. He desperately tried to remember if he'd remembered to do anything. He didn't want to do anything wrong when Mama was in such a violent mood. As he peered into the kitchen though, she beamed at him and for a moment she looked like the prettiest woman in the world.

"You did a good job, Kenji! I'm really proud of you."

Kenji smiled back, drawing himself up to his full height. Of course he did a good job. He'd been doing it every morning of his life, more or less.

"Now let's see," Mama said, tapping her finger against her cheek. "What should I make for breakfast?"

And just like that, the sunny feeling vanished replaced by a twisting deep in his gut. Oh no. He didn't want to say anything. He couldn't say anything. He'd already been hit once this morning and Mama was always so touchy about her cooking.

"Aaa, Kaoru-dono," Father said, holding up his hands. "Maybe you better let me. I really wouldn't mind."

Mama's eyes narrowed and she lifted the bokken which had been resting against the wall. Kenji took a safe step back, grabbing the back of Inoi's yukata and pulling her with him. Mama tapped the bokken lightly against Father's chin.

"And what exactly are you saying, Kenshin?" she said in that low, dangerous tone. "I've worked really hard to improve. Are you saying that I'm not any better?"

"Well I wouldn't say that," Father said nervously. Mama moved closer, glaring steadily up at him. Kenji took another step back and Inoi needed no prompting to move with him. From the kitchen, Shinta whimpered.

"I'm waiting," Mama said.

"Aaa, this one just doesn't want you to strain yourself," Father said. He reached up and gingerly pushed the bokken to the side. "You should just relax, that you should, and let us do all the work."

"Yeah, let us do the work, Mama," Kenji broke in. Anything to have a decent breakfast.

"We'll be great help!" said Inoi.

Mama's face broke into an instant smile.

"Good! Then you three can go clean up the dojo! There are two classes coming in today after all so that dojo has to be spotless!" She pushed up the sleeve of her yukata. "And Shinta-chan and I will be in here making a nice big breakfast for you when you get back."

"But…Kaoru-dono…" Father started. In a flash, the bokken was back up and her eyes were narrowed in fury.

"Dojo," she said.

"Yes Ma'am."

Kenji's shoulders slumped. Well, he would have had to clean the dojo anyway. He did it every morning right after breakfast. But at least it was usually a good breakfast. Though maybe it wouldn't be so bad. Shinta wouldn't let Mama put anything too strange in the food. And with Inoi-chan and Father helping out in cleaning the dojo, it would be done even quicker and maybe…maybe Father would stay for a while.

"Papa…" Kenji started as they began to walk away. Father glanced at him.

"Ne, Papa! Guess what?" Inoi blurted out before Kenji could speak. "Aunt Megumi said that I could come over today with Mama and she would show me how to cook. And she said if I was good that she might help me put on some western beauty makeup! But she also said that I should convince Mama to get help too because the last time Mama put on any kind of makeup she really did look like a raccoon."

"Did she?" said Father, an amused smile lifting his expression. Kenji didn't see what was so funny about that. Aunt Megumi picked on Mama all the time.

"Papa…" he tried again, but the moment he started, Inoi started speaking over him.

"And then me and Mama and Aunt Megumi are going to go down to Suzume-neechan's house and she's going to let me play with her baby. Then we're all going to go to put some flowers Ayame-san's grave."

"What kind of flowers?" Kenji asked, glancing at her.

"Irises." She sighed and folded her hands in front of her. "Flowers for a great beauty gone too soon," she said wistfully. Kenji inwardly rolled his eyes. She must have taken that expression from someone else because she'd never even met Ayame-san. Kenji could only barely remember her.

"Irises always look more beautiful in the rain," Kenji said. That had been someone else's expression as well, but he'd actually sat and watched irises in the rain and it was really true. In the rain, their color seemed deeper, richer. Father put a hand on his shoulder and Kenji glanced up at him. There was a strange expression on Papa's face that Kenji didn't understand. He seemed both sad and happy at the same time. Aaa, but that wasn't really so strange. Mama said that he'd known Ayame-san when she was little.

"Irises are beautiful in the rain," Father said softly. "Where did my Kenji learn that?"

"Around," Kenji said, dropping his gaze and staring steadily at the ground. Hopefully that would be a good enough answer. If Father ever found out where he'd really heard it from… He could almost feel his Father's stare turn from loving to suspicious, but didn't dare look up to be certain.

"I had the best dream last night, Papa," Inoi said.

"Did you?" Father asked. Kenji blew out a small relieved breath as Inoi broke into another round of chatter. It wouldn't be enough to distract Father for long if he really wanted to know, but at least it would give Kenji time to think up a better answer. Inoi kept on talking even as they went outside to the shed. It was just a nonstop endless stream of talk about everything. Kenji resisted the urge to stuff a rag in her mouth. The only way he was going to get her to shut up without getting in trouble for it was to make her go away. But if he didn't word it just right he was going to get into trouble anyway.

"Inoi-chan," he started. Miraculously she heard him and looked up from where she was gathering the cleaning rags. "Father and I can clean the dojo. Why don't you go help Mama?" Or get dressed. Or run away to China.

"But I want to help you," she said, her lower lip pulling down in a pout.

"Well you've already been a great help, de gozaru," Father said. "But I'm sure your Mama needs it even more."

For a moment, Inoi looked as if she was going to argue. Then she sighed, stuffed the cleaning rags in a bucket and went out of the shed. A moment later though she was skipping across the courtyard, singing something to herself. Kenji shot his father a grateful look. Father seemed relieved as well, though it was hard to tell. Unless he was mad, it was hard to tell how his father felt about anything. They gathered the rest of the cleaning supplies in silence and Kenji carried the bucket as they went out into the courtyard toward the dojo. The sun had come up and burned away most of the mist and it was already warm outside. The ground was still a little cold, but nothing like it had been earlier.

"You know, Mama saw me do my kata yesterday," he said, absently swinging the bucket back and forth. "She says that I reminded her of you." He watched his Father's face for any kind of reaction. But Father just continued to smile lightly as if he was still talking to Inoi.

"Did she?"

"Uh huh. Do…do you want to watch? After we finish the dojo?"

"Aaaa not today, Kenji. Maybe some other time."

Kenji clenched his fingers over the handle of the bucket. Father was still speaking like he would one of the twins. As if Kenji had just asked a simple thing that Father was too tired to deal with. Though maybe it was, Kenji wasn't anywhere near as good as he used to be. Kenji moved ahead and hopped on the engawa, pushing open the door to the dojo. Then he turned to watch his father. He tried to imagine him younger, a katana at his side. He couldn't picture it. Father just seemed older and tired, as if it had just been a very long day.

"I can't seem to get one of the steps right though," Kenji said, resting his hand on the shoji. "It looks right but I can feel my balance is off."

Father stopped in front of the engawa, looking up at him. Kenji clenched his fingers against the shoji, feeling small splinters creep up under his fingernails. Father was going to say no. He knew it.

"You should ask your mother, that you should," Father said with a smile. Kenji clenched his teeth. He hated that expression. Hated when Father got that tone in his voice. He would prefer a lecture to that.

"Mama's center of balance is completely off right now," Kenji said, trying not to sound as annoyed as he felt.

"Well you'll just have to wait until after the baby is born. It won't be much longer now."

"It will be months!" Kenji said, frustration knotting in his throat. "And then Mama will be exhausted. Why can't you just show me?

"I'm not your instructor, Kenji."

"No, but you're my father."

The smile faded and for a long moment, Father just stared at him. Kenji watched his face, his stance, hoping for some kind of change. Was Father thinking about changing his mind? But then he smiled again and Kenji's stomach twisted. Small sharp pain pricked into his fingertips.

"I'm sorry," Father said.

"No you're not!" Kenji snapped, feeling the back of his eyes start to sting. He slipped into the dojo, slamming the door hard behind him. The room spread out before him, long and empty. Kenji threw the bucket hard. It slammed into the floor, bouncing once before landing on its side and rolling around, spilling its contents everywhere. The hard sharp sound that it made when it hit only annoyed him further. He wanted to hit something. Beat something. He wanted to fight. Why was Father like that? Why didn't he ever want to show him anything? It wasn't fair. Wet warmth trailed down his face. Kenji scowled and scrubbed at his eyes with the sleeve of his gi. Well he didn't care. He didn't care at all. He would find out all by himself. He didn't need Father's help.

Kenji stalked over to the fallen bucket and picked it up, slamming all the supplies that had fallen out back in. Then he yanked out a rag, slapped it on the floor and started to clean. He would have the dojo spotless without anyones help. He didn't need help. He'd been doing it by himself since he was ten. He didn't need anybody for anything.

It wasn't long before the entire dojo was finished. The anger had faded, replaced by a dull sick feeling in the pit of his stomach. He sighed and gathered the supplies together once more, taking them back to the shed before coming again to the dojo. He closed the doors behind him and glanced down its long clean length. His eyes drifted over the plaques of the student's names that hung on the wall. Master: Himura Kaoru, Assistant Master: Myojin Yahiko. The plaque right next to that, he smiled, Himura Kenji. This was his place, his and Mama's. Though it seemed more like his then Mama's right now. They had eight students in all, not including him or Inoi. Five in the morning classes and the remaining in the more advanced afternoon classes. Since she got pregnant, Mama was letting him teach the morning classes all by himself. At least she trusted him.

Come to think of it, classes would be starting soon. He moved to sit cross-legged in the middle of the floor, slumping over to rest his elbows on his legs and propping his chin on his hand. He should really start his kata now if he wanted to do it at all this morning. But the thought of doing that just reminded him of all the things he still couldn't do. Things Mama couldn't teach him. Why didn't Father want to teach him at all? It wasn't the first time that he'd asked for help but it was always, ask your mother, de gozaru or you should work it out yourself. Maybe Father just thought he wasn't good enough to learn. Well, Kenji would get better. Better than his father. Better than anyone!

Kenji sat up, resting his hands on his legs and closing his eyes. He took a deep breath in through his nose, feeling the air fill his lungs, then slowly blew it out through his mouth. He tried to pay attention to everything, the feeling of the space around him, the floor underneath him. He listened to the beat of his own heart, trying to imagine the blood that was being pumped through his veins. Breathe in, breathe out. He pictured what he was going to do, the kata that he was going to perform. He tried to think out every step, every twist of the body and wrist, the arcs that the shinai would need to go through. Feel what he could see, imagine what he couldn't, think of what would happen and remember the mistakes he'd made in the past

Finally he rose to his feet, moving easily across the floor to take a bokken off the wall. The weight was good in his hands. It was natural. A part of him. An extension of his body. He began to move through the steps of the kata, making sure every movement was precise and completely controlled. It wasn't long before his body took over; falling into the natural rhythm of what he'd been doing daily since he was six.

Papa used to do this too, a long long time ago. But not in the dojo, never in the dojo. He would go out into the woods where no one could see as if he was ashamed of it. As if being good was something to hide. But when Papa pulled the sword from its sheath, his entire expression changed. All the sadness would drop from his face as he started to move with the blade, his gestures slow but graceful, like running water; it was as if he had become part of a different world. No matter how long his father practiced, no matter how cold or how hot, Kenji had never noticed while watching him. But Father never did any kind of kata anymore. He hadn't even picked up a shinai in two years. It was as if that part of him that was a swordsman was dying.

Kenji wanted it. Wanted to understand it. Wanted to be it. But no matter how good he got, he couldn't seem to reach what he was looking for. What he was searching for. And…Papa didn't seem to want him to find it.

"Your stance is a little sloppy," said Mama softly. Kenji startled and looked up to see her standing at the door, a bowl of rice in her hand. Kenji let the bokken drop a little. He must have been more distracted then he'd realized.

"I was just thinking," he said, slipping the bokken in the belt of his hakama as he went over to her. He took a dubious glance at the contents of the bowl. It was rice, made almost completely red with curry, so much so that just smelling it stung his nose. A few burnt pickles slouched in a lonely way against one side of the bowl and on the other side was an egg, black and crumbling except for the middle which still looked raw.

"I know, it looks terrible, but it's really good!"

"You tasted it?" Kenji asked, taking the bowl from her and the following pair of chopsticks. He poked at the contents, shifting the rice around, trying to find a grain of rice that wasn't completely red. There wasn't a one.

"Mmhm, a little bit," Mama said with a nod. "She seems to like it to." She smiled and put a hand on her belly. Kenji quickly ate a bite. The rice was actually cooked well, not too hard or mushily soft and— Ahhh! Hot, hot, hot. Kenji squeezed his eyes shut as the spicy fire burned through his mouth, bringing tears to his eyes. He had to swallow. Not spit it out. Mama would be really sad if he just spit it out. Kenji forced the food down. Mama was still looking at him hopefully. Aaa, he couldn't let her down.

"Itadakimasu," he muttered. Holding the bowl to his mouth, he ate as fast as he could, trying not to taste too much. It burned all the way down his throat and into his stomach. Finally, thankfully, it was all gone.

"That was better than usual, Mama," Kenji said in a strained voice, resisting the urge to run outside and drink the well dry. She smiled brilliantly, making the whole thing worth it. Mama was so pretty when she smiled. As she continued to look at him though, her smile faded. Had he done something wrong? Did she think he was lying about breakfast? It really was better then the last thing of hers he ate.

"So," she said, running her thumb along the rim of the empty bowl. "What were you and your father arguing about this time?"

Kenji rolled his eyes and looked away from her, idly resting his hand on the hilt of the bokken as annoyance twisted through him.

"Did Father tell you that?"

"Your father didn't have to tell me anything." She reached around and lightly tugged his ponytail. "Besides, you screamed at him pretty loud."

"Ah," Kenji felt his face heat. Well it wasn't his fault. Father just annoyed him. Father always annoyed him. "It was nothing," he muttered, pulling his bokken from his hakama and moving away from her so he could practice his kata. He paid close attention to what he was doing this time, determined not to let thoughts of his father distract him again. Mama sighed.

"Kenji, your father is just trying to protect you. He loves you a lot, you know."

Ha! Kenji wanted to stay. He continued with what he was doing, not looking at Mama so she wouldn't think the anger was meant for her.

"He treats me like a kid, Mama. I'm thirteen years old."

"That seems like a kid to me," she said, sticking out her tongue a little. Kenji forced a smile, trying not to be annoyed with her too much. Mama was only trying to put him in a better mood.

"Well I don't need to be protected. I'm not six anymore. I don't need him to hold my hand all the time."

And when Kenji did want his help, Father couldn't even be bothered to give it. When Kenji found someone who, if not a friend, was at least someone who was as skilled at kendo at he was, Father didn't want him to even be around him. Kenji couldn't even get out of the house for a few hours at night without Father tracking him down and telling him how dangerous it was. Kenji began to move faster, wishing he was fighting someone right now. Preferably Fujita or someone else that wouldn't be bought down by two strokes. He saw Mama start to move toward him out of the corner of his eye and slowed down, just in case. She put a hand on his shoulder, squeezing lightly.

"I know it's hard, I really do. Your father can be really overprotective sometimes. But he's…he's seen a lot of terrible things happen to people he loves and he doesn't want anything to happen to you."

Kenji lowered the bokken, the anger sinking into the pit of his stomach like a lead weight. He'd heard all the stories of what the war was like. Never from his father but from others that he'd asked. It had been a bloody time, a dark time and not many had thought that they would see an end to it. But that was a long time ago. There was no war now. There wasn't anything now. Just punks and petty thieves. Why couldn't Father just get over it?

"I can take care of myself," Kenji said, lifting the bokken and resting it against his shoulder. "I don't need…" He was about to say him, but then he caught the look on Mama's face. He really didn't want to make her sad. Even if it was the truth. "…his help all the time," Kenji finished, looking down at the floor.

Mama sighed but didn't say anything. Instead she gently rubbed his back in slow soothing circles. He wondered if he had upset her. If he had, it wasn't the first time. He wished he could stop doing that. He wished Father wouldn't annoy him so much. But in order for that to happen he would have to stop kendo altogether and just sit around the house all day doing nothing. Forget even going outside, it was too dangerous out there. In fact, he should probably just stop breathing too so some sickness wouldn't get caught in his throat. Kenji winced as soon as the thought crossed his mind and was glad he hadn't spoken it aloud. That was what Ayame-san had died of. He couldn't remember very well, but he knew she had coughed a lot in the end.

There was the sound of footsteps on the engawa. Kenji tilted his head, trying to guess who it was just by the noise. The gait was too slow for Shinta, but too light for Kazuo. Somehow Father always seemed to get around without making a noise at all, so it couldn't be him. It must be Inoi. He was proven right a moment later as she came into the dojo, dressed in a violently purple kimono dotted with pink flowers and an equally bright yellow obi. There were a few pink flowers tucked behind her ear as well, probably from the tree beside the wall.

"Skipping class today, Inoi-chan?" Kenji asked, raising his eyebrows. He hoped so. He loved her but she was such a pest and got distracted so easily. She pouted as if she'd read his mind.

"I'm going to Aunt Megumi's with Mama! Don't you ever pay attention to anything?"

"What did you do? Dress with your eyes closed this morning?" Kenji said. Inoi's nostril's flared and she stomped her foot. Suddenly there was a sharp pain as Mama grabbed his ear.

"Never insult a woman's fashion sense," Mama said, voice cheerful. "It could get you in big trouble one day."

"Like any girl would want to marry him," Inoi said, flipping her hair. "He's just a big stinker."

Kenji stuck his tongue out at her. Inoi stuck her tongue out back. Kenji hooked his fingers in his mouth, pulling it open wider and waggling his tongue out. Inoi countered by pulling down her eyelids and blowing a raspberry. Mama laughed.

"All right, you two. Behave."

"Yes, Mama," Kenji said, placing a swift kiss on her cheek. "Does this mean that you won't be sitting in for class today?"

"That's right!" Mama said, smiling at him and tapping him lightly on the nose with her finger. "You'll be all by yourself today! But I know you'll do a good job."

"The carriage is waiting right outside, Mama, we better go soon," Inoi said, bouncing from foot to foot.

"All right." Mama turned to him and reached up to straighten the folds of his gi. "I think Kazuo is coming in a little early today, so he can help you set up, if you like. Your father will be outside if you need him. Oh and make sure no one walks off with any cups this time. We're getting low."

"Yes, Mama," Kenji said. She smiled at him.

"That's my boy. You be good and do your best." She kissed his forehead. Kenji watched her as she left; Inoi grabbed onto her hand and started chattering on again like a demented squirrel. Though this time it was kind of cute. As soon as they were gone, he went back to his kata. Mama must think he was beyond good to let him do lessons all by himself! Of course, they weren't going over anything new today. Sundays were just drill days, but on the other hand, some of the newer students still needed a lot of work.

Kenji continued to practice, listening for the sounds that would announce the arrival of Kazuo or the students. He could hear Shinta laughing outside. Father saying something in a cheerful voice. Kenji frowned and tried not to think too much about it. After a while there was a faint noise that he couldn't identify, followed shortly by Shinta squealing Kazuo's name at the top of his lungs. Kenji grinned and started to go out to meet his friend. Before he even left the dojo, another idea presented itself and he smirked. Turning his back to the main doors, he started on his kata again. Listening carefully as Kazuo came closer. He heard the boy come onto the engawa and finally saw his shadow on the dojo wall.

"You know, for such a little thing, your brother is strong," Kazuo said. "He nearly tackled me into the wall."

"You've come to the wrong place, that you have," Kenji said in a flat voice.

"Huh?"

Kenji turned to face Kazuo, shifting his grip slightly on the bokken. He tried to keep his expression perfectly calm, narrowing his eyes at the other boy. He would have to do this just right.

"I'm afraid I'm going to have to kill you now," Kenji said. Kazuo's eyes widened.

"Kenji, don't you—"

Kenji pushed off, running as fast as he could toward Kazuo. He shifted the bokken up, pretending for a moment it was a real sword. He waited until he was just close enough, slammed both feet hard on the floor to stop himself, then swung the bokken in toward Kazuo's neck, stopping himself just a hair from the boy's skin. Kazuo's eyes were shut tightly, his hands clenched to sides. His glasses had slipped down to the edge of his nose. Kenji moved the bokken away from his friend's neck, then with his free hand, carefully pushed Kazuo's large glasses back into place. Kazuo opened one eye, then the other. Kenji grinned at him.

"Hi."

"You know," Kazuo snapped, lifting a finger and poking it hard into Kenji's shoulder. "One of these days you're going to slip and if I get a neck fracture I'm going to make sure you get one too."

Kenji pushed his hand away.

"Oh, come on, I haven't slipped once. Don't be such a baby." Kenji said, moving to the wall where the mats were stacked. The students would be coming soon and he better have these out.

"I'm not a baby," Kazuo said, coming to his side and helping him lift one. "I would just rather not be a cripple if it's all the same to you."

"Yeah, yeah."

Kazuo said nothing more as he helped Kenji put out the rest of the mats, though they had to stop a few times for Kazuo to push his glasses back in place. Kazuo was here almost every class, and Kenji had never understood why. It certainly wasn't out of any love for kendo. Kazuo would more readily pick up a pencil or brush then a bokken. It was really a shame since Kazuo did have a natural grace about him. That and quick fingers as Yahiko-ji had taught him to pickpocket, just in case he ever might need it. A skill which Kazuo had reluctantly taught Kenji who wasn't bad at it himself. It helped him snag Fujita's watch, anyway.

"What?" said Kazuo. Kenji blinked.

"Huh?"

"You're smirking again, like you've just done something your parents would kill you for."

"Was I?" Mou. He would have to work on that. No one should ever know what a swordsman was really thinking.

"My parents are ready to jump on my back over just about anything." Well one of them anyway. Kenji dragged the last mat in place then stood, dusting off his hands. Kazuo took off his glasses and started to clean them on the sleeve of his gi.

"You know, your father is just trying to keep you from getting hurt."

Kenji rolled his eyes. Didn't he enjoy hearing that every day. No one seemed to want to take his side in anything. Maybe Fujita might. But he would no more tell Fujita his problems then he would tell Father where he went during the day.

"Well Father has two other children to protect and Mama too. So he can just leave me out of it."

Kazuo frowned at him, but thankfully didn't say anything. Instead they went out to stand on the engawa, waiting for the first students to arrive. As they waited, Kazuo pulled a battered black sketchbook from his kimono, flipped it open and started to draw the well in quick, easy strokes. Kenji leaned against the post and watched him. Father would probably like it if he were more like Kazuo. Smart, obedient, no inclination for kendo. Yahiko-ji, on the other hand, would be thrilled if Kazuo ever decided to pick up a sword.

"You wanna trade fathers?" he asked, folding his arms. Kazuo gave him a look.

"I don't think you'd like it. Pop wouldn't let you get away with half of what you do here."

"Hmph.". The only reason he "got away" with so much is that he wasn't stupid enough to get caught in the first place. What his father didn't know wouldn't hurt either of them and that was the way that Kenji preferred it. The gate opened and two students came in, calling greetings to Father who was still out in the courtyard. Kenji straightened and Kazuo flipped his book shut.

"I'll be sitting in the corner," Kazuo said. Kenji nodded to show that he had heard him and smiled at the students who were making their way toward the engawa. It was Takashi and Nobiro of course. They were first every morning. Takashi was an eager student and determined even if he was absolutely terrible and kind of fat. Nobiro was chubby himself and didn't seem to care much about it one way or the other. He just seemed to be there for moral support. Kenji thought it was a bit stupid to pay for training if he didn't even want to do it, but as long as he kept paying, Kenji would teach him.

"Good morning, sensei," Takashi said, bowing low.

"Good morning," Nobiro echoed, bowing not quite as low.

"Good morning, Takashi-san," Kenji said, bowing slightly to him and only nodding to Nobiro. The man scowled and Kenji ignored it. If Nobiro was going to only treat him with the barest of respect, then he was going to get even less back. Though nearly everyone in the morning class was like that to him one way or another. Just because he was a lot younger then him, they didn't seem to think he was capable. Actually it reminded him of a certain other adult around here.

"Are we going to be learning anything new today, sensei?" Takashi asked, his broad forehead wrinkling. Kenji smiled a little. Sunday had been a drill day for as long as he could remember and Takashi had been coming here for over five months now.

"Just drills today, Takashi-san."

"Oh, that's right," he hit the heel of his hand against his forehead. "I'll remember that one day." "Not likely," Nobiro muttered. Kenji frowned. Nobiro was always saying things like that to Takashi, always putting him down. That wasn't at all what a real friend did. But no matter how many times Kenji pointed this out, Takashi never seemed to care.

"Why don't you two go inside and start on the breathing exercises," Kenji said. "And if you're not going to do them then just keep quiet so other people can concentrate." He gave Nobiro a pointed look as he spoke. Nobiro glared at him again but said nothing and the two men went past him into the dojo. Not too much later came one of the new students, Yamada. At seventeen, he was the youngest and was only taking this class to impress some girl. Why anyone would go to all that length to impress some silly girl, Kenji didn't know. Yamada muttered his greetings, and then scurried past Kenji into the dojo before Kenji could even tell him what to do. Well, he was smart, he would figure it out.

Chiba-san came right after, but he stopped to talk to father instead of coming straight to the dojo. Kenji frowned, wondering what they were saying, but not able to hear from this distance. Chiba-san was the oldest of his students, a bit older than Mama. Apparently he'd grown up in Kyoto during the revolution and had some obscure connection to his father. So obscure that Father wasn't even quite sure what it was. But he humored the man. Chiba-san was good here only because he kept coming back and paying. He really wasn't bad at kendo and probably would have been fairly decent if he'd started earlier. Chiba-san's problem was his mouth. He liked to have long rambling diatribes of all the things he got up to in Kyoto when he was little and how he'd survived through the bloodiest battles of the revolution armed with just his wits and a stick. Though Father never gave the details, he did say that Chiba-san had probably never been near a real battle in his life.

Kenji blew out a breath, feathering his bangs from his face. He wished Chiba-san would just shut up at whatever he was babbling about and get over here so he could start class already. Just as he was about to call, the gate opened again and in stepped Azuma. Kenji's gut twisted. Azuma was only a little younger then Chiba, the best in his class and more then ready to move up. But he seemed content to stay there. Kenji had never liked him too much. There was something about the way he moved, the way he stared. It sent itching chills under Kenji's skin. But he was always nice and polite to Mama and everyone in class seemed to like him. It was really very strange.

Kenji shifted from one foot to another, groaning out loud as Azuma joined Chiba and Father's conversation. What could they find so important to talk about for so long? He had a class to run here and it wasn't fair to keep the others waiting as they had jobs to get to in the afternoon. Putting his fingers in his mouth, he blew a sharp shrill whistle, then when they turned to look at him, he snapped his fingers.

"Oi! Class is starting!" He called. "If you want to learn, you better get over here!"

"You know, Kenji, that really isn't very polite," Father called back, rubbing the back of his head and seeming embarrassed. Kenji folded his arms and glared at them. Well it wasn't very polite of them to keep everyone waiting. They both complained if he tried to start class without them but he really wasn't going to hold up class for them either. They were adults. They should know better. If he was even just a little bit older, they wouldn't linger so long.

Chiba-san waved a dismissive hand at Kenji and turned back to Father. Azuma put an arm around Chiba's shoulder and said something to him. Chiba-san's shoulders slumped a bit and together they came toward the dojo. Father fell into step behind them. Kenji's heart jumped. Was he going to watch? Kenji wouldn't be able to show him anything really great, but at least Father could see what a great sensei he was.

"Good to see you there, Kenji-chan," Chiba-san said as he came up on the engawa. Then before Kenji could move, Chiba-san's large hand came down and ruffled his hair. Kenji fisted his hands at his sides. Hitting Chiba-san wouldn't do any good and they needed the money. Azuma stopped beside him too and put a hand on Kenji's head as well. But he didn't ruffle his hair, his hand just stayed there. Kenji resisted the urge to squirm away from him. Azuma smiled, though his eyes seemed to have an entirely different expression.

"It's good to see you again, little sensei."

"Aaa, you too," Kenji said, smiling even though he was sorely tempted to bite him. "But class is starting, Azuma-san so if you could please step inside? We're just doing breathing exercises right now."

"Of course." He waited a heartbeat longer, then moved into the dojo. Kenji rubbed at his hair, trying to get the feeling of the man's hand off of it. Ugh. He glanced at his father, wondering if he was going to come up as well, but Father wasn't even looking at him. Instead he was staring at Azuma with a strange expression.

"Father?" Kenji said, trying to get his attention. Father blinked then glanced at him and smiled.

"You have a good time, Kenji. Shinta and I will be doing the laundry if you need anything." Though Father was smiling there was still a strange look in his eyes, as if he was trying to emphasize a point. Kenji blinked.

"All right."

Father stared at him a moment longer, then his expression relaxed just a little bit and he walked away. Kenji watched him go. He wished Father would stay and watch…but it was probably boring for him. After all, most of the students were barely even amateurs. Pushing the thought into the back of his mind, he went into the dojo and closed the door. Nobiro was leaning back, hands propped on the floor, staring at the ceiling. Yamada skulked in a corner, fingering a bokken. Chiba and Azuma were talking again and poor Takashi was sitting cross legged on the floor trying his best to concentrate. Kenji stared up at the ceiling, quietly counting to ten as the anger rolled in him. He wanted to beat each and every one of them over the head. Even Takashi who was breathing but seemed to have forgotten how to do it the right way. There was a sound behind him and he glanced over his shoulder to see Kazuo.

"Good luck, sensei" said his friend, patting his shoulder. There was no sarcasm in his voice or Kenji would have really hit him. This was going to be a very long day.

----

Translator Notes:

Ji: Uncle. Kind of informal. (I'm fairly certain. XD: )

Kata: A system of basic body positioning and movement exercises

Shinai: A bamboo sword, generally used for practice with other people in kendo

Bokken: A wooden sword, generally used for kata (according to Wikipedia. Xx;)

Itadakimasu: Traditonal phrase before the meal. Something like, Let's eat!

Any other thing you need translated, don't hesitate to say so. Or if I'm translating wrong. XD;

Again, much thanks to my lovely midwife for the beta -hugsnkisses-


	4. Class and its Aftermath

Kenji hated them. He hated all of them. With the exception of perhaps Takashi. At first, he had thought he wouldn't even be able to start class. Azuma had helped get everyone in order…and then taken it upon himself to be the sensei. They were paying for this, Kenji reminded himself. They were paying to come here and do everything all _wrong. _Oh, it looked right, but if they ever got down to an actual fight they would be at a serious disadvantage. He clenched and unclenched his hands, frustration and anger tearing at his throat. He still wanted to beat them, make them see, make them _listen_. At least Takashi was doing his best going through the kata that Kenji had laid out for him. Nobiro was supposed to be acting as a sparring partner for him, but it was obvious his heart wasn't in it at all. Azuma on the other hand was trying to teach Chiba-san and Yamada one of his own special moves, which he couldn't have used in any real fight and actually lived.

"You're leaving yourselves completely open!" Kenji snapped finally. How could they not see this? Were they really that stupid? Chiba-san stopped flailing his shinai and gave Kenji a wide indulgent smile. Kenji wanted to punch his teeth in.

"Ah, Kenji-chan, Azuma-san and I have been dabbling in swords before you were even a glimmer in your parents' eyes." He winked. "I think we know what we're doing."

Kenji gave up. He could beat them. He could beat them to a pulp. But in the end, he would only get in trouble and they might even lose money. With the new baby on the way they needed all the money they could get. Kenji moved to stand against the wall beside Kazuo and tried not to pay attention to them. He was glad Father hadn't stopped to see this. Glad that he couldn't see Kenji failing so horribly.

"Well this is a complete farce," Kazuo said. Kenji looked down at him and saw him sketching Takashi. He was pretty good at it, even getting the slightly constipated expression on Takashi's face as he tried to focus.

"Which part is the farce?" Kenji asked, crouching so he could peer closer at Kazuo's work. He wasn't entirely sure what a farce was. Maybe it was some move he hadn't heard about? Well whatever a farce was, he was pretty sure Takashi wasn't doing it right.

"Huh? No, a farce is like a charade."

Kenji blinked at him. Were they still speaking the same language? Kazuo sighed and pushed his glasses up his nose with the tip of his finger.

"Them," he said, gesturing to the trio of adults. "They're just playing at knowing what they're doing."

"Ah," said Kenji. He propped his elbow on his knee and rested his chin on his fist, watching them. Mama would be here tomorrow, watching them, and would want to know what the hell Kenji had been having them learn. Then when she found out what happened, she would never let him teach a class by himself again. It just wasn't any fair. Stupid adults. There was the smack of a shinai hitting flesh.

"Ow," said Takashi. Kenji glanced over at him and saw him rubbing his leg.

"Sorry about that, Takashi," Nobiro said with a frown.

"No no, it's my fault." Takashi laughed sheepishly. "I'm just naturally clumsy I guess."

"No you're not," Kenji said, rising. Both men looked over at him. Nobiro snorted a laugh.

"You know, he's still going to pay even if you don't say nice things to him."

Kenji blew out a long breath. There were so many things he could say to Nobiro that wouldn't be nice at all. Instead he decided to ignore him completely.

"Takashi-san, why don't you show me what you were just doing. Without Nobiro-san's help, please," he said as the man started to turn toward his friend again. Takashi nodded, a faint sweat breaking out on his forehead, and started to move. He was slow and jerky, like he didn't know what to do with more than one body part at a time. Kenji shook his head.

"Come here."

Takashi nodded, dabbing at his forehead with his sleeve, and came closer.

"I'd like to see you teach him anything," Nobiro said with a laugh. Kenji gave him a sidelong glare. He desperately wanted to tell him to shut up.

"If you haven't got anything encouraging to say, go find something else to do."

Nobiro scowled as if Kenji had been the one at fault. Kenji looked away. It was so annoying. Couldn't Nobiro join with the other idiots once in a while?

"Don't frown like that, sensei," Takashi said. "Nobiro is just being honest." He rubbed the back of his head. "I make so many mistakes."

"So what?" Kenji shrugged. "Better to make mistakes in class than anywhere else." Kenji pulled the shinai from his back and tried his best to give Takashi a warm smile. It wasn't him he was annoyed at, after all. "Now just do what I do," he said, starting to go through the sequence himself. "Don't concentrate on anything else; don't worry about making mistakes, just do it."

"Yes, sensei."

It was actually a pretty basic move and it wasn't long before Kenji was bored with it. Still, he went through the sequence patiently, watching Takashi out of the corner of his eye. The man was still jerky at it, but hopefully with enough repetition, and no loud mouthed friends, he might get a little better at it. There was a rustle of paper and Kenji glanced at Kazuo. The boy had turned a few pages in his sketchbook and was now watching him, arm moving in quick strokes. Kenji had the annoying feeling that he was being drawn. Kazuo said nothing, however, and Takashi was still as clumsy and so the monotony went on.

"So Father was being really annoying last night," Kenji started, just to give his mind something to do.

"Mmhm. What trouble did you get into afterwards?" Kazuo asked. Kenji glared at him but Kazuo didn't even bother to look up.

"What makes you think I got into any trouble?" Kenji asked defensively. Kazuo stopped sketching and looked at him over the rim of his large glasses.

"Because you always do after a fight with Kenshin-jisan."

"Well this time I didn't."

"Is that so?" Kazuo said, going back to his book. Kenji scowled. Yes, it was so. Well in a way. Sort of. It's not like he'd gone looking for trouble really. Trouble just always seemed to find him. Sometimes. For the most part.

"Well I—"

Takashi stumbled a little. His steps were becoming increasingly sloppier and he seemed more disjointed than before. He must be listening to their conversation. Takashi was so easily distracted. That wouldn't do at all…but being perfectly silent around him wasn't going to help either.

"Takashi-san, you need to focus," Kenji said. "Even in battles when there are distractions all around you, you have to concentrate the most on what _you're _doing. Where your body is going. It could mean the difference between life and death." It was a bit dramatic and Kenji wasn't entirely certain if it was true, but it sounded right. Takashi blushed a deep red.

"Yes, sensei. Sorry."

"Now focus. Breathe. Nothing matters but the steps. You know how to do this."

"Yes, sensei."

Kenji repeated the steps in silence with him, watching as Takashi got back in the rhythm. He really wasn't bad. He just let things distract him…and his friends get him down. Takashi might have the chance to be really good if he could only concentrate on what he was doing. After a while he shifted positions to move in front of Takashi, doing the steps he'd wanted Nobiro to do. It seemed like Takashi was really getting the hang of it now. Even though his eyes were closed. Takashi Jun, blind swordsman. Kenji resisted the urge to roll his eyes.

"Anyway," he continued. "I needed to get out, you know? Get some fresh air. So I went to the bridge."

"Right," said Kazuo, scratching his pencil idly against his ear before once more setting it to the paper.

"And I was just sitting there for a few hours, minding my own business, when Father shows up with half the Akamiitsu gang right behind him."

"The Akamiitsu gang? I thought you said that you were going to stop antagonizing them," Kazuo said, looking up at him again. Kenji sighed at the worried look on his friend's face. It wasn't as if the Akamiitsu gang was even very dangerous. They were just a bunch of thugs who thought they were better than anyone else. Most of them didn't even know how to fight.

"Well they were nothing really. Father took care of most of them, as if I couldn't handle it myself. Watch your steps, Takashi-san; you're leading with your right foot again."

"R…right. Sorry, sensei."

"So then we're walking home and Father starts lecturing me about getting into fights. Which is completely ridiculous because I didn't even start that fight—"

"But you've started things with them before."

"Before, yes. But I didn't do anything to them this time. I didn't!" he said as Kazuo gave him a dubious look. He hadn't done a thing. He'd just wanted to sit there and listen to the river and stare up at the sky but they had wanted to start things with him. For no reason whatsoever. Anyway, it was Fujita who had done most of the bruising to them earlier that day, though it wasn't for Kenji's lack of trying.

"Well you still start fights," Kazuo said, frowning at him. "Dangerous ones, too."

"Even if I do, so what? I still think it's stupid for Father to lecture me about them. I mean, he was the Hitokiri Battousai. He's killed more people than I've even met and I—"

"Hitokiri Battousai?" Takashi said. Kenji blinked at him, a bit startled. His eyes were wide and he'd stopped completely. "Really? Is your father the real battousai?"

Well, it was sort of hard to guess from the way Father was now… and Kenji couldn't even really imagine it himself. But Fujita was not the kind to lie about that sort of thing. Actually, Fujita wasn't the kind to lie about anything at all. And when Kenji had asked Father about it… Kenji absently shifted his grip on the hilt of the shinai. It was a face he never wanted to see again. Papa's expression had been so sad and distant, as if something had been torn away. Kenji could still see it sometimes in his dreams.

"What's going on over here?"

Kenji looked up at the sound of Chiba-san's voice. The man was making his way over to them, along with Azuma and Yamada. As soon as he was in reach, Azuma put a large knobbly hand on Kenji's shoulder. It was hot and slightly damp from sweat.

"Sensei says that Himura-san is the infamous battousai," said Takashi.

"That's ridiculous," Yamada said, but almost in the same breath Chiba-san said:  
"I knew it!" He clapped his hands together. "The red hair…the cross shaped scar has faded a bit but it's still there if you look close enough."

The adults began talking then, debating on whether or not Kenji was really telling the truth. As they spoke, they crowded around him. Kenji suddenly felt very small and there was a sinking weight in his stomach. Should he not have said what Papa had been? Was that really such a bad thing? He tried to look at Kazuo, wanting some sympathy, wanting to know he was not alone in this, but Nobiro was blocking his way. He felt trapped inside this ring of adults, suffocated, and never once did Azuma's hand leave his shoulder.

"Aaa, and what is going on here?"

Kenji flinched at the sound of his father's voice coming into the room; somehow piercing the discussion and making the dojo fall into dead silence. Why did he have to come now? Why couldn't he have stayed away? Nobiro and Yamada stepped away, and Kenji found himself staring straight at Father who was standing in the doorway, looking concerned. The silence seemed to move around him, cutting into him, making it hard to breathe. But it wouldn't be silent for long.

"I lied," Kenji said, seeming abnormally loud, bouncing off the wall, echoing in his ears, inside him. "I lied, all right? I was just making up stories."

"I knew it," Yamada said. Takashi's face fell. Kenji opened his mouth to apologize to him but was cut off when Chiba-san's hard heavy hand came down across his head.

"You little idiot. You can't lie about important things like that."

"I would appreciate it, Chiba-san, if you did not hit my son," Father said in a hard voice. Kenji looked down at the floor, feeling heat flood his face. Once again, Father was jumping to his defense. Even now when he really shouldn't.

"Well I would appreciate it if you actually had a qualified instructor to teach this class," Chiba-san said. "Kaoru-san, woman or no, at least understands what she's doing. But this is unacceptable."

"That's right," said Yamada. "I'm not paying good money to be taught by some lying brat."

"He's not so bad," said Takashi in a soft voice.

"It's a sham and you know it is," Nobiro said. "And I for one am not coming back until I can get my money's worth out of this place."

Well if he'd actually listened and practiced and did what Kenji told him to do without dragging his feet about everything, he would get more than his money's worth. But none of them really cared about the style. They just wanted to learn for the look of it. They were all just morons who wouldn't get any better than they were now no matter how much they paid. It wasn't fair that the one time they decided to complain, it had to be in front of his father. They had to make Kenji look even worse, look like he really couldn't handle anything. Father would never stop treating him like a kid now. Kenji wanted to scream that at them. He wanted to beat them and not stop until the anger boiling in him went away. But they were students… They paid money and the longer they contributed, the more Kenji had to put up with them, no matter how much they aggravated them.

"Perhaps you could take over for the remainder of the day, Himura-san," Azuma said.

"Father isn't teaching anyone," Kenji said, shrugging out of Azuma's grip. He wanted them all to go away. Wanted this whole thing to be over with before he made it even worse. Kenji moved a few steps away from his "students" then turned to face them, keeping his back to Father so he wouldn't have to see his expression.

"As of now, class is over," Kenji said, folding his arms and looking at the adults steadily. It was over as soon as it had begun. "Mama will be back tomorrow, but due to her condition, I will still have to demonstrate the positions. Is that all right?" It wasn't a question. He was not going to let Mama put herself in dangerous positions for the sake of these losers.

"Very well," said Chiba-san, as if he was the spokesman of the entire group. "But next time I expect you to adjust your tone to one that's suitable for speaking to your betters."

Kenji clenched his teeth. Adjust his tone? None of what he'd said had been disrespectful at all! But still, Chiba-san _was _a student and--

"I think you are the one who should be adjusting his tone, Chiba-san." Father's calm voice broke Kenji's thoughts. Had…had he really heard that?

"I realize that Kenji is young, but he is still an instructor of this school, de gozaru."

There was a moment of silence. Red blotches appeared on Chiba-san's face. He looked as if he was going to have an outburst any second. The other adults were watching steadily as well.

"I don't have to go to this school, Himura-san," Chiba-san finally said, biting out each word. Kenji wasn't sure what kept him from blowing up completely. He risked a glanced back at his father and saw he was standing perfectly still in the doorway, hand at his side and fingers bent slightly as if there was a sword there. His expression was perfectly calm.

"If you cannot give respect when respect is given, Chiba-san, then perhaps you do not belong in this school at all."

Kenji's eyes widened. Ahhh! No! What was Father saying?

"But you're perfectly welcome to stay," Kenji said quickly, clapping his hands and bowing low to the adults. "In fact, it's entirely my fault that this class got so out of hand. I apologize for the rudeness. If you gentleman would care to go outside, I'm sure Kazuo can get you some water from the well."

Kazuo was silent to this and Kenji turned his head a little to glare at his friend. The boy blinked at him, then his eyes widened and he bowed as well.

"Ah, yes, it would be my pleasure!" he said with cheer that was glaringly fake. Fortunately, Chiba-san didn't seem to notice.

"Now that's more like it, don't you think, Azuma-san?"

"Indeed," said Azuma, a smile in his voice. Kenji stayed bowing as all the adults passed him. That was close. Being a little rude to Chiba-san was one thing, almost kicking him out was quite another. A pair of chubby feet stopped in front of him. Takashi…. Kenji straightened and saw the larger man was frowning. He put a hand on Kenji's shoulder and opened his mouth to speak.

"Takashi, you moron, we have to get to work," Nobiro called.

"Coming!" Takashi called. He gave Kenji a small smile, squeezed his shoulder and moved past him. And then he was alone in the dojo, staring at the shinai that Chiba-san and Yamada had carelessly dropped on their way out. Father was still watching him; he could see his shadow on the floor. The shadow was even larger than Father was, seeming to stretch out and fill the whole dojo. It was coming. Kenji knew it was. But all he could do was stand there and wait for it.

"Does having students really mean that much to you, Kenji?" Father's quiet voice seemed to prickle along his skin. It was hard to tell what he was feeling, but Kenji didn't look back at him. Just knowing that he was there was more than enough. Father was an adult. Why couldn't he just understand? Though, sometimes he wondered if even Mama did.

"Yes it does," Kenji muttered, picking up the shinai and holding them close to his chest. "Chiba-san is really influential and we have too few students as it is without him spreading bad rumors. Pride is nice, but you can't eat it." And it wouldn't help pay for the upkeep of the house, or clothes or any of the things they needed.

"That is very true." Father said after a while. His voice was distant and a little tired. Kenji tried not to think about it as he hung the shinai back on the wall. Had he upset Father again somehow? What could he possibly have dong wrong this time? If there was ever something to be done wrong, Kenji would probably do it. He sighed and rubbed the back of his neck, looking over the dojo. Even though not much had been done in it today, it still needed to be cleaned a bit for Yahiko-ji. Normally it was the students' job to do it but… He sighed heavily.

"It looks like I'll have to go back over it again," he muttered, half to himself.

"Can this one help?" Father asked. Kenji turned to him, focusing on the edge of his patched hakama. He absently wondered if there was any bit of clothing in this place that wasn't patched or frayed.

"Thank you, but I can handle it," Kenji said with a smile that he didn't feel. Father stood there a moment, as if he was waiting for something…or maybe wanted to speak. In the end, neither of them said anything and Father simply walked away. Kenji looked up in the place he had been, seeing the sunlight fill the gap. If Papa had stayed, they would have only gotten into an argument, or he would have been lectured and ended up frustrated. That seemed to be happening more and more lately. Maybe that was part of growing up. He wished he were a man already so that he didn't have to deal with it.

After he was sure his father had left, he went outside toward the shed. Chiba-san, Yamada, and Azuma were still standing around the well, talking. Kazuo was with them, hanging back a bit and wearing a slightly pained expression. He looked up as Kenji came closer. Neither Chiba-san, or Yamada seemed to notice him, but Azuma seemed to watch his every move. Kenji tried his best to ignore the man and instead put a hand on Kazuo's shoulder and leaned closer.

"Keep an eye on them, ne?" he murmured. "Make sure Yamada doesn't run off with any cups. I'm going to go clean up the dojo."

Kazuo nodded. Kenji smiled his thanks, nodded at Azuma who was still staring at him, and continued on his way to the shed. All he got was a rag; the dojo didn't need much, and went back the way he had come. The floor was cleaned in a matter of moments and Kenji was about to go outside again when he spotted a black book lying on the floor. Kazuo's book. Kenji absently tucked the rag into his sleeve and picked up the book, opening it and thumbing gently through the pages. There were sketches of birds and clouds, Kazuo's mother holding his little sister, Yahiko-ji staring up at the sky looking more thoughtful than Kenji usually gave him credit for. He then came to the page Kazuo had recently been working on and stopped. Kazuo had been drawing him, catching him in the middle of a stance with a faint sketch of Takashi beside him. There was something written above the sketch's head. Kenji squinted, trying to make out Kazuo's sloppy spidery kanji. Oh…it was the character for samurai.

What a laugh. Kenji closed the book, considering for a moment before slipping it into his gi. Real samurai didn't exist anymore. Real swordsmen didn't exist anymore. Wasn't that what Fujita was always telling him? He wanted to believe that it wasn't true, that there were still decent men out there. But if Chiba-san was an example… Kenji sighed, took his shinai from the belt of his hakama and began moving with it. It wasn't kata exactly, just letting his feet go where they wanted, experimenting the way the weight of the bamboo moved in his hands.

"The time of the samurai is long gone," Fujita had said one day when they were just standing on the bridge. "Now is the time of merchants. The time of money. Honor no longer makes a difference."

There was still honor out there. Kenji was sure of it. Honor and respect but only if you had the money…or the strength to reach out and grab it for yourself. If he was back in the revolution, money wouldn't have even mattered. If he was back in the revolution, he could prove his worth with a real sword against real people. Kenji stopped for a moment, resting the shinai against his hip as he reached back and undid his hair. He ran a hand through it until the shape of the low ponytail was gone, then pulled his hair up and back, tying it in a warrior's style. Then he picked up the shinai again, feeling the weight of it, the texture of the grip under his palms. He took a deep breath and began to move again in short, quick, precise steps, swinging the shinai in controlled movements.

He closed his eyes, trying to imagine what it would be like. A dark night with only the crescent moon high above to light the way. Enemies slinking from the darkness, faint light shining off the blades of their swords. Tension that ran thick and taut through the air. Who would make the first move? And then…and then… Kenji sighed and stopped. And then he didn't know. Because that would never happen. That was his father's time, not his. Though sometimes he wished they could switch places. Kenji was sure he would have appreciated it much more. Instead he was stuck in this time where it was all westernization and money where no one really cared that much about kendo anymore.

Well that didn't matter. It didn't matter if the whole of Japan turned into some weird western country. He would still become a swordsman. He would still fight. It didn't matter what he had to go through. Kenji adjusted his stance, holding the shinai at his side as if it were just the sheath of a real sword. He shifted his right foot back, tested his weight, then frowned and pulled it forward a little. Still wrong. His balance was still off. Kenji tried anyway, lunging forward and reaching his hand across himself to pull out the imaginary sword. He stumbled a little, felt a slight twinge go up his leg as he overexerted himself a bit. It was wrong. All wrong and he couldn't figure out how to fix it. He had seen battoujutsu in a few drawings, and seen his father practice it long ago…and it didn't look that hard but somehow he just couldn't get it. Maybe it was because he didn't have a real sword. The weight would be a lot different than just a shinai or a bokken. Plus it was difficult practicing pulling out the blade when there wasn't one. He frowned and tried a few more times, each with the same clumsy result.

"That's pretty good."

Kenji startled at the voice and whipped around. Azuma was standing right behind him, right arm resting inside his gi, with his hand hanging limply out the front. Where had he come from? How had he gotten in so silently? Kenji backed up a step, and then stood straight. He wasn't going to let a student intimidate him.

"Is there anything I can help you with, Azuma-san?"

Azuma just smiled at him, head tilted slightly to the side. Kenji clenched his fingers around the shinai. Azuma was a big man and fairly talented, but Kenji could take him. He was more than a match for him. But there was something about his smile, the narrow eyed way the man was staring at him that made him nervous.

"I was just thinking…." He reached out with his left hand as if he was going to touch him. Kenji narrowed his eyes and shifted slightly to the side. Azuma's mouth twitched in a smile he flicked his wrist. A piece of folded paper appeared between his fingers and Kenji blinked, caught off guard.

"Your talent is wasted here," the man continued. "However, I know someone who might be very interested in your…abilities."

"Abilities?" Kenji echoed, taking the paper from him and pulling it open. He must be talking about kendo. What else could he be referring to? The kanji simply read, Shinjuino. The name of a place? Of a person? Would it make him look stupid to ask?

"That is in Yoshiwara, easy to find if you know where to look," Azuma said in a low voice. "If you really want to live up to your potential, you'll be there tomorrow night."

Live up to his potential? His potential as what exactly? And why in Yoshiwara? There was something about this that didn't quite fit. That Azuma was trying to hide something from him.

"What do you mean?" Kenji asked as Azuma started to walk away. The man stopped, turned half way so he could smile at him. It was a knowing smile. A patronizing smile and Kenji knew Azuma wasn't going to answer his question. Stupid adult.

"You'll see when you get there, won't you?"

Which meant he was still hiding something. It felt almost like he was trying to trick him into something. Kenji frowned and stared at the kanji again, trying to find some hint in the word, but nothing made sense to him. It didn't matter. He might just go there anyway, right into Azuma's stupid little trick and then get right back out of it again. He would show Azuma he was not just some little kid to be patronized and lied to. When he looked up again, Azuma was gone.

Kenji went to the door of the dojo and watched the man leave, stepping down from the engawa into the courtyard. Father was hanging laundry with Shinta, and though his back was to Azuma, turned and watched him too. Kenji couldn't see his father's expression, but there was something about his pose. He wasn't tense at all but instead seemed to relax more, preparing himself to move in any direction. Kenji tried to imitate him, letting his hands fall to his sides, shifting his stance so his feet were a little wider apart. As an after thought he rested a hand on the hilt of the shinai. Azuma went through the gate, and as the door shut behind him, it was like a tense rope had been cut. Father turned to Shinta who had been tugging his hakama and ruffled the boy's black hair. Kenji frowned. Though he was glad that Azuma was gone, he'd half hoped to see something.

The gate opened again not a moment later and Kenji tensed. Was Azuma back again? Would something happen? But instead of tall creepy Azuma, a shorter man with spikey black hair and an easy smile strode in, giving Father a lazy wave. Kenji grinned, his spirits lifting immediately and he clenched his hands into fists. Great! Yahiko-ji was here! Now the fun could _really _start.

Kenji closed his eyes, took a deep breath to prepare himself and started to pull out his shinai. Then smirked and pushed it back into place. No…he would try a battoujutsu way. He might fail terribly or he might get it after all but he wouldn't get anything if he didn't try. Kenji pushed himself into a run, leaning forward a bit, tucking one hand in his sleeve and resting the other on his shinai. Kenji was coming closer and closer to Yahiko-ji. The man smirked as Kenji got nearer but not yet drawing his own shinai, which rested against his back. Closer. Closer. Now!

"HAAA!" Kenji yelled, pulling his hand from his sleeve, and reaching across himself to yank out the shinai. Yahiko-ji pulled his own weapon and bought it down before Kenji had fully brought out his shinai. There was the clack of bamboo hitting bamboo and the shinai was knocked from his hands and clattered to the ground. Aw damnit.

"Well that's something I haven't seen from you before," Yahiko-ji said, picking up the shinai and handing it to him. "Just what were you trying to do?"

"Battoujutsu," Kenji said, making a face as he accepted the shinai. "I think I'm not getting the stance right or something. Though it would help if I…" He trailed off as he felt his Father's presence. As if he was being watched but not quite. He wanted to say 'if I had a real sword'. But he didn't want to hear _that _lecture again. Kenji shook his head. "Forget it."

He easily moved back into a more familiar stance and held the shinai in front of him, grinning at his uncle.

"Let's go."

"In a bit, we've still got time before class starts," Yahiko-ji said, putting his shinai back at his back and rubbing his knuckles lightly over Kenji's scalp. Kenji tried not to be irritated. After all, Yahiko-ji would still fight him. Just not right away.

"Yahiko-ji! Yahiko-ji!" Shinta cried, racing toward them and tackling the man, wrapping his arms around Yahiko-ji's waist.

"Oof. Hello, Shinta-chan. How are you getting along?"

"I'm fine! I was helping Papa with laundry. Spin me like a top, Yahiko-ji! Pleeeease?" the boy begged. Yahiko-ji laughed.

"All right."

Shinta put his small hands in Yahiko-ji's larger ones and Kenji obligingly backed up so his uncle could spin his little brother around. Then he sighed heavily and shoved the shinai back in his hakama. As usual, he was made to wait for Shinta. Just because Shinta was so little and _cute_. Bleh. He went to flop on the engawa, leaning back and bracing himself with his hands. He felt the engawa shudder and opened one eye to see Kazuo coming toward him.

"Don't pout," Kazuo said, sitting beside him. "It makes you look five years old."

Kenji stuck his tongue out at him and sat up. Yahiko-ji was still spinning Shinta and Father was starting to look a little concerned.

"Yahiko, I really think you should slow down now," Father was saying. Yahiko-ji staggered to a stop, Shinta's feet dragged in the dirt a little and he wound up on his knees. Shinta got up himself, staggered a bit giggling, then abruptly doubled over and threw up. Kenji slapped a hand over his mouth, but the laugh escaped anyway. He bent over, trying to contain it.

"Oh, ha ha, hilarious," Kazuo said in a dry voice, killing Kenji's urge to laugh right there. "Let's all bust a gut at the little kid throwing up."

Kenji rolled his eyes and rested back on his hands again, watching Father half carry a wibbly legged Shinta to the well. Yahiko-ji stood where he was, rubbing the back of his head and looking sheepish. Everyone was so concerned over a little vomit. He threw up a lot when he was a kid and he was still alive.

"You have to stop spinning him so fast, Pop," Kazuo said as Yahiko-ji came over to them. "That's the second time now."

"Yeah, I know." Yahiko-ji sat next to Kazuo, looping an easy arm around his shoulders. "I guess I'm just used to you and your iron stomach."

Well that was true. Kazuo could eat anything. Even Mama's cooking. And he didn't even flinch. Kenji was really ready to spar now. To do something. To move. But Yahiko-ji and Kazuo seemed to be content in the silence. Neither of them moved, just stared out into the sunlit courtyard, Kazuo lightly resting his head on Yahiko-ji's shoulder.

Something tightened in Kenji's chest. He wasn't sure what it was but it annoyed him. Made him mad at everything. Stupid Shinta. Even though it really wasn't his fault. Kenji sighed and hopped off the engawa. Oh forget it. Forget everything.

"I'm going to go take a bath," he muttered. Even though he really didn't need it. Usually he did after a class but that wasn't what he would call a class. Hmph. Yahiko-ji blinked at him.

"Didn't you want to spar?"

"No. Forget it." Something shifted against the skin of his stomach and he suddenly remembered. Pulling the black book from his gi, he handed it to Kazuo. "You left this in the dojo."

"Oh." Kazuo blinked in an almost exact imitation of his father. "Thanks. Did you want me to heat up the water for you?" He asked as he took the book back.

"No thanks, I can handle it." He gave them both a small wave and started to walk toward the bathhouse.

"Hey, Pop. Remember that sketch I was having trouble on? Well I finally think I got it right," Kazuo said.

"Oh yeah? Let me see."

Kenji shook his head, trying not to hear it. Unfortunately, to get to the bathhouse, he would have to pass the well. Kenji kept his eyes straight ahead, but couldn't help but see Father standing there, lightly rubbing Shinta's back as the boy took another long gulp of water, trails of liquid running down his throat. He was such a messy kid. Father glanced up at him briefly, then back down to Shinta.

"Aaa, don't drink so fast, Shinta-chan," Father said, gently guiding the dipper away from Shinta's mouth. "You're going to give yourself the--"

Shinta's shoulders jerked in a hiccup and Father laughed. A light unexpected laugh that actually seemed real for a change.

"There now, you see?"

Kenji realized he'd stopped and moved past them to the bathhouse. At least once he was inside he wouldn't have to hear anymore. He started the fire outside, getting it going nice and hot so it would last a while, even though it would take a bit for the bath to heat up. Then he slipped inside the warm comforting silence of the bath house. He pulled the tie out of his hair first, shaking it loose, then slowly slipped off his gi. There was a flash of white as the paper Azuma had given him fluttered to the ground. Kenji picked it up and opened it again. The kanji seemed even blacker against the whiteness of the paper. He ran his thumb over it, then crumpled it and stuffed it back in the deepest part of his sleeve, reminding himself to throw it in the fire later. He would still go, but if his Father found even a hint of the message, Kenji would be in trouble. Not like that was anything unusual.

He untied his hakama and let it fall before stepping out of it and throwing both gi and hakama into the corner. Then he knelt and started washing himself with the soap they were starting to run out of. That didn't surprise him. They always seemed to be running out of everything. It was so frustrating. If Father was really the best swordsman in all Japan, why couldn't they be richer than this? Why did everything have to be so run down around here? He wouldn't mind seeing Mama in a fancy kimono for once and Inoi too for that matter. He wouldn't mind actually having clothes that hadn't been patched so much they were practically another garment all together. But no, nothing would change. Every day would be just the same as every day that had come before it. Every day would be just as annoying. Every day he would just feel a little more trapped.

Kenji dropped a bucket of water over his head to rinse off the soap, shivering at the cold and then stepped into the annoyingly lukewarm bathwater. He sighed and leaned his head back against the edge. Nothing would ever change here unless he changed it himself. Unless he got out and did something about it and he would. Somehow he would find his own way. Father wouldn't like it but who cared? Father didn't like anything that Kenji did anyway so what did it matter? He was going to do what he wanted to do and damn anyone that wanted to stop him.

----

Much thanks to my lovely midwife, Anreg. The proud godmother, Effie. And the one who occasionally stops in lend a hand, Istoria.

And, of course, to those kind people who stop by and leave me a little review to let me know how I'm doing. :3 Thanks guys.

I luff all of you 3


	5. A Father's Concern

Kenshin stared at the bathhouse, wishing he could stare past the walls to catch Kenji in an unguarded moment, see what he was really thinking. It had been a pretty rough day, so Kenji's frustration was understandable. But was that why he was so eager to fight? To rid himself of that feeling. Kenshin hoped not. It was certainly not what Kaoru had taught him. But Kaoru hadn't taught him to attempt battoujutsu either. He hadn't been very fast and his attack had been clumsy. Even more worrying, the attack hadn't been in the spirit of one who wielded a sword in the protection of others. Perhaps just because it had been Yahiko. Maybe Kenji had just been trying to prove himself.

A hiccup diverted his attention and he glanced down at his little Shinta. The boy hiccupped again, whole body jerking with the movement, and made a sour face. Kenshin couldn't help but smile. Shinta smiled back at him, a wide open-mouthed grin, revealing the gap where he'd lost a tooth. It was such an open smile, so free of pretension. There was nothing to hide the boy within.

"Are you feeling better?" He asked his youngest, resting a hand on the nape of Shinta's neck and feeling the warmth there, the faint fragile beat of his pulse. Shinta certainly looked well enough, but it was hard not to worry. Shinta seemed to attract illnesses right and left. Winter was always the hardest time of year and there had been many a night when Kenshin sat up with him, listening as he coughed painfully. So many nights praying it was just a cold, always expecting blood and being relieved when there wasn't.

"I'm fine, Papa," Shinta said cheerfully. "It was fun! And look!" Kenshin watched amused as his son opened his mouth wide and stuck two fingers inside.

"Auffer loof toofh!" the boy exclaimed. "Me and Inuffi's viffag iff goffa bef Keffi!"

Well he'd caught the first part. Another loose tooth was certainly something to be proud about. But the rest was completely lost on him. Kenshin gently pulled Shinta's fingers from his mouth.

"What now?"

"A village, Papa! Inoi's and mine! We're going to beat Kenji's fortress!"

Ahh and here he was still completely lost. It must be some imaginary game that had taken their fancy.

"What village would that be?" he asked. Shinta gave him a long look that clearly told him he should know all this. Then the boy sighed, shook his head slowly and straightened his little shoulders and folded his hands behind his back, like he was reciting something he'd memorized.

"When good children lose their teeth, the spirits come and take those teeth away to build big villages to fight each other with. That's what Kazuo-niichan said," Shinta whispered out of the corner of his mouth.

"Aa," Kenshin said, sitting lightly on the lip of the well and waiting for Shinta to continue. The boy rolled his eyes upward, as if trying to remember. For a moment he looked solemn and serious. A hiccup interrupted it completely and Kenshin had to put a hand above his mouth to stifle his laughter. Shinta gave him an exasperated look and Kenshin cleared his throat and folded his hands on his lap, giving Shinta an intent stare. After a moment the boy nodded.

"And Kenji says since he's older than us, he has enough teeth to build a big fortress so Inoi and I are going to have our spirits combine our teeth so we can overpower him." Then Shinta lightly grabbed his arm with both hands. "But we don't really mean it, Papa. It's all pretend. I don't want to overpower anyone."

Shinta's blue eyes were wide and earnest and it was easy to see his spirit behind them. It was a spirit full of light and wonder, like a firefly on a dark night. Sometimes flickering out as his body succumbed to the world, but always coming back brighter and stronger than before. Kenshin smiled and put a hand to his son's soft cheek, smoothing over the warm skin. Of course Shinta was young yet, but so far there wasn't a trace of swordsman in him. It was all soft edges and sweetness.

"I like your happy sad smiles," Shinta said softly. "But I like your happy happy ones the best."

"Do you?" Kenshin said, though he wasn't sure what to do about that one. Shinta nodded. Then he looked back over his shoulder in the direction of the bathhouse, a frown wrinkling his forehead. When he looked back at Kenshin, the frown was still there.

"Do you think Kenji-nii needs company?"

"No, I'm pretty sure that Kenji would like to be alone," Kenshin said, trying not to glance in that direction himself. Shinta's lower lip pulled in a pout. "None of that, now," Kenshin said in a light tone, tapping the boy gently on the nose. "Your brother has a lot going on right now, that he does, and he needs to think things through."

Shinta's shoulders heaved in a sigh that seemed almost too big for him.

"All right."

"Mama and Inoi-chan should be home soon. Why don't you fold some flowers for them? They really liked the ones you did last time."

Shinta sighed again, but nodded and shuffled off, feet dragging across the ground. He was disappointed now, but once he got into the origami, he would forget about everything. Kenshin glanced over at the bathhouse himself. Then he went over silently and added more fuel to the smoldering fire. Kenji liked his baths hot and could soak for hours if they let him. Maybe this was all just a phase Kenji was going through. No… Kenshin stared at the small flames of the fire. He couldn't let himself believe that. No matter how much he wanted to. If it was just an interest in learning new things he could dismiss it. But it was turning into so much more. The frequent trouble he got into, hanging around with Saitou Tsutomu, Kenji's strange passion for a blade. It was a rough path already and though Kenshin tried not to worry, the only thing he could see at the end of it was darkness. Blood and shadows…

Kenshin closed his eyes, feeling the heat bask his face. Was he thinking right? Would Kenji really go that far? He was stubborn and reckless, but deep inside he was still innocent of the world. A child who had never seen death. Never even seen a corpse. And that was the way it should be. It would be all right. He added one more piece of wood to the fire, making it snap, and stood.

"Kazuo?" said Kenji, voice slightly muffled. Kenshin was impressed that he'd noticed. The popping sound hadn't been very loud at all and the sun wasn't in the right position for him to cast a shadow.

"No," Kenshin said, lightly resting his fingertips against the wall.

"Oh." There was silence for a while. The water splashed a bit as Kenji moved. He wondered about the expression on his son's face right now. What he was thinking? When Kenji was younger, he had been so easy to read, his emotions bright on his face, as Shinta was now. But as he got older, he became more complex, seeming to pull into himself for some reason Kenshin didn't know. He wanted to talk with him… But Kenji always preferred to be left alone while bathing. Almost as if it was a retreat for him. An escape from the noise of the house.

"Is Shinta all right?" Kenji asked. Kenshin had started to leave, but the boy's voice made him stop. A smile lifted his heart. Though he knew that Kenji cared about his younger siblings, even when teasing them, it was nice to hear the concern in his voice. He really was a good boy.

"Aa. Just a little stomach upset." Kenshin hesitated again. Would now be a good time to talk? Kenji didn't normally speak up if he wasn't in the mood for conversation. He seemed calmer now. Mellow. Perhaps he'd be more inclined to listen. Still Kenshin would have to choose his words carefully.

"It seems you've had a hard day today," Kenshin said. He could just hear the faint sigh over the sloshing of water.

"It would have been easier if they'd just listened," the boy grumbled. He didn't sound angry. A little disgruntled, but that was natural. Kenshin wished he would have come a bit earlier. All he'd seen was the adults crowding around Kenji. He'd wanted to shove them away, peel Azuma's hand off his son's shoulder. Azuma… He really should have stayed just to watch that man. There was something about him. Something predatory. He'd always sensed it lurking just below the surface, but it had always been dulled. Someone who had once held a sword, obviously, but had turned from that path a long time ago. Or so he'd thought. But today he'd sensed more of that swordsman than ever before. Was it because Kaoru wasn't here? Or something unrelated outside of the dojo?

"Papa?" Kenji's voice was faint. It wasn't a question to get his attention, rather Kenji seemed to be asking if he was still there.

"Sometimes it's hard for adults to follow the orders of a younger person," Kenshin said. "Even if they look like they know what they're doing. It's hard to accept that one who hasn't lived very long knows better than you do."

"Well that's just stupid. They're only hurting themselves."

"Aa. But pride is a hard thing to see beyond. For both adults and growing boys." Kenshin fell silent, letting it sink in. Kenji said nothing to that. Was he thinking about it? Or was he brushing it off as just another lecture? Kenshin could only hope it was the former. Another thought came to him but he hesitated before he spoke. Maybe it would help make a connection, but on the other hand, Kenji would certainly ask questions. Those questions might not be easy ones to answer either. But…maybe…now was the time…

"It's also hard to be young and have adults not listen to what you're telling them. Even though you know it's in their best interest." He paused a moment. "But sometimes, no matter what you say to them, they'll just do what they think is best." And on occasion their decision had at least not been fatal. But more than once…there had been so much loss simply because an older man did not want to listen to the advice of a fifteen-year-old boy.

"So what did you do?" Kenji asked after a while. Kenshin was caught between a smile and a twinge of worry that went through his throat. That he'd been talking about himself wasn't so obvious, but still Kenji managed to pick it out. He was a sharp observer, picking out the words that really mattered. But it also made Kenshin wonder what else he knew about the past. What else had he heard? And from whom?

"I…" Let them bury themselves. Kenshin's fingers twitched against the wall. It wasn't as if he could have stopped them. They would have gone anyway. "I let them go." And had been furiously annoyed at the consequences. So much had been wasted just because of an adult's stubbornness. So many plans…so many lives…

"Did bad things happen when they did what they wanted?" Kenji asked. There was a strange quality to his voice. An emotion Kenshin couldn't quite pin down. But once again, it was a very observant question from him. Could he really read people so well at such a young age?

"Aa, sometimes. But in the end people will make their own decisions and all you can do is respect that and help them in any way you can."

"How can you respect a bad decision?" There was a mildly annoyed undertone to his voice, but for the most part it was just a question. Kenshin thought about it a moment, rolling the answer around in his mind, trying to find the exact words.

"You can't always tell if a choice is good or bad." Even years after it had been made. Even now when he allowed himself to dwell on it, he wasn't sure whether some of the decisions made during that time were ultimately for the best.

"But even if you can't respect their choice, you should always respect the person who made them, de gozaru. Even if the only thing you can respect is the life that beats inside them."

"Even criminals?"

"Everyone," Kenshin said. "As long as someone is alive there is still a chance for redemption." Though redemption was a thing that was hard to find. Still, as the years passed, the feeling seemed to grow on him. A sense of inner peace…inner calm where there had once been nothing but guilt. He felt someone come up behind him and turned a little to see Kazuo. The boy was approaching, but stopped when Kenshin looked at him as if he was afraid of interrupting something. Kenshin smiled warmly.

"Is there something wrong, Kazuo-chan?" He used the honorific without thinking. Yahiko at that age would have spit nails at Kenshin for even using the word chan, but Kazuo just smiled.

"No. I just wanted to tell Kenji that I was leaving now," Kazuo said, shifting his large glasses back into place.

"Did you hear that?" Kenshin asked his son. The water sloshed and there was an acknowledging grunt. Kenshin had the feeling that Kenji wanted to be left alone now. Well that was fine, he'd said most of what he'd wanted to say and the rest was up to Kenji to think about.

"You're going home pretty early today, aren't you?" Kenshin said as he began to walk the boy to the gate. Kazuo usually stayed for lunch before going home and minding his little sister so Tsubame-dono could go to work. Kazuo nodded.

"Pop says that Michiko is running Mother ragged so I thought I would go home and make her lunch so she can take a break."

"That's very nice of you," Kenshin said. Kazuo shrugged as if to say that it wasn't such a big deal and Kenshin smiled. Even though Kazuo looked very much like Yahiko, it was obvious he had more of his mother's temperament. His mother's looks, too. Aside from his hair, he had softer features that told of a gentle nature. His eyes were definitely Yahiko's, though a bit darker. And, like Yahiko, Kazuo had a very defined sense of self. He knew who he was and he knew where he was going, even though he was quite young. And though he appeared weak on the outside, he moved with the easy grace of one accustomed to his body. Of course, once puberty hit, that was all likely to change. Actually, Kazuo wasn't that far from it. He was ten now, wasn't he? And Kenji seemed to be going through it all ready. In a few short years they would both be men. The thought startled him. Where had the time gone? The days by themselves seemed to move so slowly but in a blink, years just slipped by.

They reached the gate and Kazuo bowed slightly. Kazuo was always so formal with him. Kenshin got the feeling the boy was a little intimidated by him but couldn't imagine why.

"I'll see you later, Kenshin-jiisan," Kazuo said. "Could you tell Pop that I'll save some lunch for him if he stops by after class?"

"Well you're more than welcome to bring Tsubame-dono and Michiko-chan here, de gozaru." It had been almost a week since he'd seen them. Michiko-chan especially. She was getting so big so fast. Sometimes he wished there was a way to stop children from growing completely, at least until he was ready for them to do so.

"Mother would probably like that. I'll be sure to ask." Kazuo bowed again, then scurried out of the gate. Kenshin watched him for a while, then stepped back into the courtyard and shut the gate behind him. It was so quiet. So peaceful. He glanced at the laundry that hung in the sunshine, remembering Shinta's laugh as they played in the soap. An echo of earlier laughs, Kenji's…Ayame and Suzume…. Aaa, this was how life was meant to be lived. In the pleasantness of a home filled with longingly sweet memories.

"You're looking introspective," said Yahiko. The boy—young man--- had come to sit on the edge of the engawa, a bowl in his hands. There was a faint gleam of sweat on his forehead and Kenshin supposed he had already done his kata and was now waiting for the students to arrive.

"This one was just thinking."

"That's no surprise," Yahiko said lightly. Kenshin wasn't entirely sure how to take that statement and so let it go. Yahiko began to poke at the contents of his bowl with chopsticks, frowning a bit. It was probably leftovers from breakfast. There had been…unfortunately quite a lot.

"Kaoru-dono has been experimenting with curry," Kenshin said casually, folding his hands in his sleeves. "A _lot _of curry."

Yahiko stared down at his food; seeming to consider it, then brought the bowl to his mouth and ate some anyway. His face was bland as he chewed. The face of one determined to keep chewing no matter how horrible the taste.

"You'd think after so long she'd be able to cook better." Yahiko said around a second mouthful of rice.

"She's really improved quite a bit." Though considering her earlier meals, that wasn't saying much.

"That's true. At least I can get it down without gagging."

Kenshin smiled. This was a dangerous conversation, that it was. Though he knew his Kaoru wasn't home, he wouldn't be surprised if she came in at exactly the wrong time in the conversation. His scalp twinged in memory of the many shinai beatings it had gotten over the years. Though she was a lot calmer now than she used to be.

He watched Yahiko eat for a while, noting how the boy had blended into the man without much left behind. He couldn't help but wonder if it always worked that way. Yahiko was strangely silent and the more Kenshin watched, the more he noticed a darkening of Yahiko's features. The way his brows were angled, forming a small ridge on his forehead, the slight downward pull to his mouth.

"Aaa is there something troubling you, Yahiko?" he asked. Yahiko blinked up at him startled. Kenshin expected him to smile, brush off the problem with a lazy wave. Instead his frown deepened and Kenshin was immediately concerned. Was there something wrong with Tsubame-dono or Michiko-chan? No, Kazuo would have known about it. Was there some new enemy on the horizon? A new danger worming its way into their lives? Or perhaps some trouble at work? Yahiko worked on the docks and there always seemed to be some sort of trouble, from faulty equipment, to stingy merchants or sometimes the shady characters that seemed lured to the wharves at night.

"Well the Kaze Maru came in last night, and the captain is kind of cheap. But it was a slow night so me and a couple of the guys unload it. There was a lot there so it took most of the evening and then we go back to him to get our pay and he just laughs and says if we're stupid enough not to get it in writing then we don't deserve it."  
"That's not very fair at all," Kenshin said, narrowing his eyes. It was completely despicable. Working on the docks was hard enough but many of those men had others to feed and were not simply breaking their backs for the pleasure of it. He wondered if there was something he could do, someone he could talk to.

"Did you go to the police?" Kenshin asked. Yahiko nodded.

"They said the same thing. No written documents, no proof. I even went to Chief Uramura." Yahiko fell silent, poking at his bowl without eating any. Kenshin felt his shoulders tense. Whatever Uramura told him was either something Yahiko didn't want to hear or something that he had to think about. Still, Kenshin waited patiently, a soft spring wind blowing over the wall and bringing with it the pale scent of nadeshiko flowers.

"He said that there is nothing he can do, but he wants me to become a police officer." Yahiko said, still staring at the bowl. "He told me the force needs some trustworthy men who know what they're doing. Who won't be corrupted easily by money…" Yahiko looked up at him then, his eyes questioning but piercing in that way he always had, as if he was looking at Kenshin with every ounce of his being. "And I was thinking of doing it."

"Ah." There was an underlying question there and Kenshin knew the young man wanted to know what he thought. Unfortunately, Kenshin wasn't entirely sure what to tell him. Of course the police were ultimately run by the government and Kenshin was a little leery about too much involvement with that. On the other hand, Yahiko knew where his morals stood and would most certainly do what he thought was right no matter the situation.

"You might be called on to do things that you would rather not do," Kenshin said gently. "This one hopes it will not come to that, but the future is uncertain." And the Meiji government had proved itself quite corruptible already. But Kenshin was beginning to wonder if all governments were like that. It seemed to be where there were people, corruption would inevitably follow.

"I know." Yahiko set the bowl to the side and leaned back, staring at the sky beyond Kenshin's shoulder. "But I just can't let things go this way anymore."

"Aa." From a Yahiko's standpoint, the job would certainly look enticing. Finding work on the docks was hit or miss and as a police officer the work would be steady and the pay would be slightly better, but the danger would only increase. Was that really worth the money? But safety didn't always keep the family fed.

"Those people don't have anything, Kenshin. They don't have anyone to stick up for them. I mean, I can save all of them one time with a sword, but what about the next time? But if I can get into a position of authority, if I can try to teach people to think the way you do, it will be more than just one sword. More than just one person looking out for the people who don't have the strength to help themselves."

Kenshin smiled as Yahiko's words lifted his spirits. Ah, so that was why he wanted to join. Of course Yahiko would find a way to both live with his ideals and support others with it. He put a hand briefly on the young man's shoulder, feeling the undeniable strength there. A strength beyond just physical power.

"You are a good man, Yahiko," Kenshin said, meeting his gaze. "And you will make a fine officer." Yahiko's grin was quick and warm, lighting up his whole face. It was amazing how so few words seemed to mean so much to him.

"It'll be a lot of hard work, I'm sure," Yahiko said, rubbing the back of his head. Then he looked beyond Kenshin again and his grin turned devious. "But if I can survive tanuki-girl's cooking, I can survive anything!" he said a little louder.

"What did you say, Yahiko?!" Kaoru must have just come to the gate but still her voice was quite loud even from this distance. Kenshin fought to hide a smile and turned to greet his beloved wife. She was standing just inside the gate, one hand protectively over her stomach while the other twined with Inoi's who stood beside her. The murderous look on her face skewed the maternal image, but Kenshin didn't mind. That was part of his Kaoru too.

"Welcome ho—" Kenshin started.

"Actually you've gotten better!" Yahiko said over him. "In a few years it might be edible."

"Oro," Kenshin said as Kaoru dropped her hand from her belly and clenched it into a fist. Rather than charging over as she might have done years ago, she walked sedately, Inoi keeping pace and grinning as only a six-year-old could when something amusing was about to happen. As Kaoru came closer, he saw she had a shinai at her back and before Kenshin could even start to guess why she was carrying it, she pulled it out and cracked Yahiko soundly over the head. Yahiko fell back dramatically, flopping on the engawa and sending Inoi into a stream of giggles. Her laughter was infectious and Kenshin couldn't help but smile, a smile that grew even warmer as he glanced at Kaoru and found her smiling back.

"Welcome home," he said, holding out his hand. Her expression seemed to glow as she slipped her hand against his. Her palm was small, her fingers callused from years of kenjutsu and hard work, but her grip was strong, grounding and so very warm. An even smaller, yet insistent, hand tugging at his hakama distracted him and he looked down at Inoi. There were flowers in her hair, everywhere, as if she'd picked them and stuck them anywhere she thought might look good. She was holding up a single yellow dandelion that looked liked it had been stepped on at some point.

"I picked this for you, Papa." she said.

"Aaa, thank you, little Inoi," he said, kneeling down to her level. "It's beautiful." She beamed, proud of her gift, but instead of giving it to him reached over to tuck it in his hair. She smelled of wild flowers and earth and he could see the telling brown dirt stains on the front of her kimono which would take some effort to wash out. A part of him wanted to keep them there so that when she became a woman he could look back at the tiny kimono and remember the bright child within.

"There you go, Papa," Inoi said, patting his hair. Then she sighed and stepped back, folding her hands in front of her. "You look beautiful," she said. Yahiko snickered from where he was still lying prone on the engawa and Inoi looked up.

"I got one for you too, Yahiko-jichan!" she said, clambering up beside him. A dogwood blossom came loose from her hair, as she moved, and fluttered toward the ground. Kenshin caught it and rose to tuck it in Kaoru's hair, the white of the petals standing out against the darkness of her hair. She smiled, reaching up to touch it gently.

A high bright laugh floated into the courtyard and Kenshin glanced to see two very welcome figures cross through the gate.

Megumi hadn't changed much over the years. She was still a dark beauty, confident in her ways and a little harsh in her mannerisms but with gentle warmth underneath. In fact the only thing that ever changed about her was the grief in her soul, peeling away year by year and every time he saw her, the light in her eyes got a little bit brighter.

Suzume walked beside her, and he could just see the tiny head of her baby as it peeked above the sling around her waist. She had always been a bright, happy child and had grown into a bright, happy woman, full of energy and life. Her husband was a completely different matter. Though there wasn't anything entirely wrong with him, he'd always reminded Kenshin of a born and bred bureaucrat. He wouldn't be surprised if Suzume had to sign papers in triplicate just to leave the house.

"Kenshin-niichan!" Suzume squealed as she caught his gaze. She waved exuberantly, as if he'd only just spotted her, and picked up her pace. Megumi said something to her and she slowed down, putting a hand over the sling. Kenshin smiled, knowing if not for the baby, she would have near tackled him in a fierce hug.

"Aaa, it's good to see you Suzume-chan," he said as they came closer. And it was, he had hardly seen her at all during her pregnancy. "You too, Megumi-dono."

"Sorry for just inviting ourselves over out of the blue like this," Megumi said. "But if I'm going to make ohagi, I want to make it so everyone can enjoy it!"

"Ohagi!" Suzume and Inoi squealed at almost the same time. Kenshin laughed; they were just alike, those two. Suddenly he became aware everyone was smiling at him with such warm eyes, Kaoru's expression nearly made his heart melt and even Yahiko was sitting up, hair full of flowers, and was giving him a wide smile. Kenshin had the feeling he missed something. He blinked.

"Oro?"

Suzume giggled, and Kaoru laughed, slipping her arm around his. Megumi just shook her head, an amused smile on her face. Completely confused he glanced at Yahiko who just grinned.

"Well, if we're going to get lunch for everyone, we best be starting right away," Kaoru said, tugging at his arm.

"You won't be doing anything but sitting right there and relaxing," Megumi said, saving the day before Kenshin even had the chance to worry. "I know it might not seem like much but carriage rides tire you out more than you realize."

"You really should relax, Kaoru," Yahiko said, concern in his voice. "You don't want to overdo it." He sounded genuinely concerned and Kenshin felt the same. Kaoru was still a strong woman, in body and mind, but carrying the twins had been hard on her and the labor was even worse. Kenshin never wanted to see that much blood coming from her again. Kaoru had a stony look on her face. For a moment, it seemed she was going to fight. Then her shoulders fell a little and she gave them a tired smile.

"Oh, all right," she said, climbing the engawa's steps and even going so far as to take Yahiko's hand as he moved to assist her. "But when this baby is born I'm going to cook up a full course meal for everyone!"

"This one will be looking forward to that day," Kenshin said honestly. Because no matter what the food ended up tasting like, their new child would have arrived and both baby and mother would be safe and sound. Kaoru leaned the shinai she'd used earlier against the shoji, then, resting a hand on her belly, she lowered herself awkwardly to sit. He glanced at the shinai. It was new, he realized. Probably made not too long ago. She must have just bought it. But why?

"In the meantime," Megumi said, turning Kenshin's attention back to her. "Suzume and I will fix a fine lunch, complete with ohagi," said Megumi, taking a black ribbon from her sleeve and tying her hair back with it.

"Aaa, you don't have to do that," Kenshin said, holding up his hands. "I can make lunch for everyone."

"Well I know you can. But you won't."

"But Tsubame-dono and Kazuo-chan might be coming over as well and it's quite a lot of work…"

"Well then I'll just make more! And with the two of us-"

"Me too!" Inoi chimed in. "I want to help!"

"Three of us working at it, lunch will be done in no time," Megumi said without missing a beat. Kenshin knew that he'd been beaten…and he probably had been the moment Megumi arrived.

"Can you look after Yukiko, Kenshin-niichan?" Suzume-chan asked, holding the baby closer to her even as she spoke. "She's just been changed and ate not too long ago so she won't be any trouble."

"I would be honored to," he said, looking down at the baby but making no move to take her. Her eyes were closed and her tiny mouth, open a little, as she slept. Suzume stroked her wispy brown hair a few moments longer, then lifted the little girl from the sling. Kenshin took her gently, smiling at the warm heavy weight in his arms. He remembered when he couldn't even hold a baby for fear of harming it, but now it just seemed natural. Yukiko shifted in his arms, her mouth opening in a wide yawn revealing soft pink gums, and then she turned her head toward him and went still again.

"She's very beautiful," he said, smiling up at Suzume.

"She is!" said Suzume, voice full of pride. "But she has her father's eyes." She pulled the corners of her eyes down. "So serious." She gave him an exaggerated frown, then burst into a stream of giggles, covering her mouth with her hand. Kenshin decided the best course would be to say nothing at all to that.

"Well, come on, ladies," Megumi said, flipping back her bound hair in a well practiced movement. "The day is getting on and we have hungry mouths to feed."

Kenshin waited until they had all flocked off toward the kitchen before joining his Kaoru on the engawa. He took a moment to adjust Yukiko so that his arm wouldn't tire too quickly. Her little face wrinkled and her small hand curled, but she didn't wake up. Kaoru leaned closer to him, peering at the baby herself. He watched her face soften out of the corner of his eye. She was so beautiful, his love. The dogwood flower was still in her hair and the scent of it lingered just on the edge of his senses.

Yahiko excused himself and Kenshin supposed the afternoon students had arrived, though he didn't look up to check. For a moment he wanted the world to belong to just the three of them.

"She's a lot smaller than Inoi was," Kaoru said, stroking the baby's rounded cheek with the tips of her fingers. "But she's really healthy. And she doesn't cry very much at all!"

"Aa. Well she hasn't started cutting teeth yet." He remembered many nights pacing the floor in the wee hours of the morning, wondering if the child he held would ever stop crying. Inoi in particular had quite a set of lungs and after a few nights with her, he wondered if he'd go deaf as well.

"I don't want to think about teething," Kaoru said, moving away a little and rubbing the small of her back. "All I want to do is get this little one out in the world."

"What did Megumi-dono say?"

"We're both perfectly fine!" Kaoru said, beaming. "It's looking much better this time around. I just have to take it easy."

"Aa," Kenshin said, making a mental note to make sure she did. She really shouldn't be having this baby at all. Megumi had said that, after the twins, having another child would be a great risk. But even though they had both been careful, Kaoru had become pregnant anyway. This one would be the last though. He would do whatever he could to ensure it. He would not risk her life again. There were only so many times he could stand to watch someone slip away from him.

Yukiko stirred, as if sensing the dark turn of his thoughts. Kenshin shifted her weight again and tried to focus on brighter things. It was a situation made much easier when Shinta emerged on the engawa, holding an old water bucket overflowing with origami flowers. He raced over to them to show what he had done and Kenshin let himself be absorbed by Shinta's happy voice as he showed his creations to his mother. There weren't just flowers, as Kenshin came to see. There were birds as well and quite a few cats. In fact, almost as many cats as flowers.

"Aaa, Shinta-chan is very good at origami," Kenshin said.

"He really is," Kaoru said, picking up a little yellow cat and turning it over in her fingers. Shinta gave them both a wide grin.

"I'm going to make some more!" he said with an enthusiasm that made Kaoru smile. And he did just that, flopping cross-legged on the engawa and starting to fold a fresh sheet of paper into what looked like another cat.

"It looks like Michiko-chan has finally gotten over her cold," Kaoru said.

"Hmm?" Kenshin looked up to see that Tsubame and her small family had finally arrived. Michiko indeed looked a lot better, than when he had last seen her, and toddled over to them as fast as her three-year-old legs could carry her. Kazuo and Tsubame followed close behind. Kenshin watched as the little girl climbed onto the steps, looked at them both with wide brown eyes then made a beeline for Shinta, practically falling into his lap.

"Shinta-nii! Shinta-nii!"

"Hi, Michiko-chan!" Shinta said, not seeming the least bit disturbed that her little foot was crushing one of his flowers.

"Thank you very much for inviting us," Tsubame said with a bow.

"Of course! You are always welcome," Kaoru said. "Megumi and Suzume have taken over the kitchen so lunch should be ready soon."

"Oh!" said Tsubame. "It's like a picnic!"

"It is, isn't it?" Kaoru said with a laugh.

"Picnic!" Shinta cheered.

"Pinic!" Michiko echoed.

The two women began chatting about different picnics they'd been to, raising children, the weather… They flitted from topic to topic so quickly that Kenshin couldn't keep up. Instead he just settled back, listening to the flow of their voices, careful to listen for his name just in case either of them asked him a question. Shinta went back to making more origami and Kazuo joined him and patiently tried to show his baby sister one of the less complicated forms. Michiko-chan seemed more interested in crumpling the paper in her chubby little fists.

Kenshin watched Shinta's small quick fingers move. The way his tongue poked through his lips as he concentrated. Feminine laughter came from the kitchen and soothed Kenshin's heart even more. This was truly what he had fought for. What he had always fought for. A chance for those around him to live in peace. There were still worries…and struggles to be had. But worry was not the same as fear and there was no fear here. No enemies at the door. No war tearing across the land. Just friends and family. Warmth and laughter. He was still not entirely sure if one such as him deserved this or not. But true retribution, he had found, did not come from wondering what you deserved. Rather, enjoying what you were given. And all this was more than he ever could have imagined.

Something sparked in the back of his mind. A feeling. A presence. If he'd been concentrating on something else, he might not have felt it at all. Someone was watching him intently. But not with malice. Just watching. Observing. Kenshin lifted his head a little and was mildly startled to see Kenji standing not a few feet away, leaning in the shadows of the house. Kenshin met his gaze raising his eyebrows questioningly. Kenji's solemn expression didn't flicker and neither did he look away. It was hard to guess what he could be thinking. There was no anger in his stance, no stubborn set to his jaw. Though Kenshin couldn't help but notice he was wearing his hair in a warrior's top knot again. But that didn't have to mean anything. Maybe Kenji just wanted it off his neck.

Kenji shifted his weight, raising his chin a little and folding his arms across his chest. Was this going to be another battle of words? The corner of Kenji's mouth tilted up just a little and Kenshin knew that this would be another battle all together, but a far more enjoyable one. He couldn't remember when the staring game had started, but when Kenji was younger it had been his favorite. Now the game came few and far between, but he was always glad when Kenji initiated it.

Kenshin lowered his lashes a bit so his eyes wouldn't dry out as quickly, but Kenji kept his eyes wide, as if determined to beat him the hard way. Kenji's eyes were so blue, like a summer sky. He wished he could look past them and see what his son was really like. What motivations drove him. What made him happy, what frightened him. Kenji was a mystery in so many ways. Still, other things about him were transparent. His stubbornness for example. Kenshin tried not to smile as Kenji's face contorted in an effort to keep his eyes open.

"Having trouble, Kenji?" Kenshin asked lightly, feeling Yukiko stir and shifting her so that her head rested against his shoulder. Kenji clenched his fingers in his sleeve.

"None at all," Kenji said shortly.

"Because, you know, you can blink if you want to."

Kenji said nothing to that, though his eyes narrowed a bit. Then a little bit more.. Suddenly, the baby sneezed against his neck and Kenshin nearly blinked. But Kenji was still staring and his own eyes were beginning to water from the effort. He tried not to think about the slimy trail slipping down the side of his neck and past his gi.

"Giving up?" Kenji asked.

"This one does not give in so easily." Even though all he could really see now was Kenji's eyes. Kenji blinked and looked past him.

"Kazuo, look out," he said. Kenshin blinked himself and glanced back toward the children and saw that Michiko had apparently upset the shinai propped against the shoji and it was now falling toward the boy. Kazuo looked up and caught it easily, then gave Kenji a lopsided smile.

"So what got you to drag your lazy carcass out of the bath?" Kazuo asked. Kenshin inwardly winced at Kazuo's turn of phrase and tried not to think too much about the images associated with it. Instead he shifted Yukiko to his other arm so he could wipe the trail of mucus off his neck with the sleeve of his gi.

"The sound of Mama's beautiful voice," Kenji said, going over to her and pressing a kiss against her cheek. Then he plucked the shinai from Kazuo's hand and stared at it, a confused expression on his face.

"You're looking well, Kenji-chan," Tsubame said, crossing the engawa to gather up little Michiko. Kenji's face darkened a little at being called chan but when Tsubame looked up at him he smiled.

"You are too, Tsubame-obasan. Are you staying for lunch?"

"And Megumi-obasan _and _Suzume-niisan!" Shinta said brightly before Tsubame could even open her mouth. "Want to help make some flowers for the picnic?"

"No thanks, little brother," Kenji said with a warm tone to his voice, reaching over to ruffle Shinta's hair. "Maybe some other time."

He moved to sit beside Kaoru, hugging the shinai against his shoulder as if it already belonged to him. It probably did, now that Kenshin thought about it. He couldn't think of any other reason for Kaoru to buy it. As Kenji settled beside her, Kaoru reached up and pushed a few strands of hair over his ear. Aaa, she was such a good mother, his Kaoru.

"So, how did the class go?" Kaoru asked. Kenji's expression tightened as did Kazuo's and the boys shared a brief look, then Kenji's shoulders slumped. Kenshin's heart went out to his son. It was hard to tell someone who counted on you that you hadn't done as well as you'd expected. Especially if you cared for them a great deal.

"It wasn't a class, it was a disaster," Kenji muttered. "No one even bothered to listen except Takashi. Everyone just did what they wanted to do."

"Well I'm sure that you did your best," Kaoru said brightly. "And tomorrow we'll make them work extra hard!"

Kenji puffed out an annoyed breath and leaned back on his hands.

"It doesn't matter. It's not as if they care one way or the other." He closed his eyes, sighing deeply. "It's all just a game to them."

"You can't know a person's heart, Kenji," Kenshin said softly, trying to not make it sound like a rebuke. "They could very well have an interest, but be afraid of expressing it. Swordsmanship is not thought as highly of today as it once was."

"So that's why you have to give them a chance!" Kaoru said. "After all, Takashi-san didn't seem to like kendo at first, but now it's obvious he does. He's even been talking to me about setting up private lessons."

"Private lessons?" Kenji asked, sitting up and giving her a wide-eyed look. Kaoru nodded.

"Uh huh. With just him and a few friends who are serious about learning…and he wants you to teach him since he says he can learn things better when you teach."

"Well Kenji is the best instructor in this school," Kazuo said with a grin. "Other than Pop, of course."

"Right now I'm the _only _other instructor in this school," Kenji said, but he seemed pleased nonetheless.

"But you still do a really good job" Kaoru said. "And that's why I decided it was time for you to have a new shinai. All the other ones in there are almost older than I am," she said, sticking out her tongue a little.

"Thanks, Mama," Kenji said, holding the shinai out in front of him. "It's really nice."

"It's much better than a real sword, Kenji-niichan," said Shinta, his sweet, eager voice making Kenshin smile. "A shinai can't hurt people." He was just like his mother. Believing the best in the world even when it wasn't necessarily true. But this era could use more people that thought like that. He looked back at Kenji and the warmth that had filled him began to drain away. There was a smirk twisting his son's face as he stared at the shinai.

"You just keep on being naïve, little brother," Kenji said, shaking his head. "That's what everyone loves about you." His tone was careless, but not bitter. Still there was something in Kenji's expression that made Kenshin's senses twitch uneasily. He would have to talk with him again. Sit down and help him figure things out before it got too far. Though a part of him didn't want to believe that Kenji could ever truly be the way he was acting.

"Lunch is ready, everyone!" Suzume's voice rang through the air and Kenshin looked up to see her carrying a bowl of steaming soup. Kenji sprung to his feet and moved to help her without any prompting. Kenshin closed his eyes briefly, trying to push all the doubts and fears away for now. As much as he was worried, now was not the time for it. But he still couldn't help but feel that there was a truth to Kenji that would be very hard to face.

------

Um, I used quite a few honorifics in this chapter as you can see. XD

-dono is an archaic version of –san but uber respectful

-niichan is older brother.

-obasan is a slightly formal way of saying aunt.

On another note. Aa is a masculine version of yes.

Um. If I've messed up anywhere along the line, feel free to tell me. Sorry this chapter took so long (I was really working hard on it. Honest!) and sorry not much happens in it. TT But I hope you enjoy it!

As always, thanks to my lovely midwife, Anreg, the proud Godmother Effie, Aunt Jenn who likes to peek in from time to time and the other Aunt Jennifer who loves me enough to read what I foist on her (and makes a mean pasgetti!)


	6. You Just Don't Understand

Kenji rested back on the smooth warm dirt of the courtyard, pillowing his head with his arm as he squinted up into the brilliant blue sky. Voices drifted through the air around him. The high excited sounds as the twins played with Michiko, running back and forth, bare feet slapping against the ground. Suzume-niisan was with them, singing a counting song in time to their steps. From the other side, the soothing tone of his father's voice, gentle and happy as he read aloud from a letter Yahiko-ji had brought from someone they had known long ago. Sanosuke. Was that his name? Kenji listened, though he didn't really pay attention, he just liked the pitch of his father's voice. The way it was so quiet but seemed to reach everywhere at once.

"Urgh, I'm full," Kazuo said, flopping beside him. Kenji felt a twinge of irritation as Kazuo's voice overrode his father's, but quickly let it go.

"Mm," he said, folding his other hand behind his head. There were hardly any clouds today at all. Instead the sky seemed like a sheltering dome, keeping him pressed against the ground. An unreachable void with a ceiling he could never quite touch,

"If I eat any more ohagi, I'll burst," Kazuo groaned..

"Then don't eat it," Kenji said, closing his eyes. The sun was warm on his face and a soft warm breeze fluttered through his bangs. The adults laughed at something Father had read and Kenji frowned, annoyed a little at not having heard the joke. Not that he would have gotten it anyway. Opening his eyes a little, he turned his head to the side and watched his father through lowered lashes. Everyone was watching him. Absorbed by him. Even Shinta had stopped playing and stopped to listen. How did he do that? What was it about him that seemed to attract everyone like that?

"Do you ever think, Kenji?" Kazuo asked in a distant way. Kenji turned his head to look at his friend and found the boy staring up at the sky. He'd taken his glasses off and was absently tapping one of the stems against his lower lip. Kazuo's face looked fresher without his glasses. More free, somehow. As if that was what he was truly supposed to look like. Without them, his face relaxed and his dark eyes slid out of focus, making him seem like he was in the middle of a daydream.

"Think about what?" Kenji asked, reluctant to break the stillness but still curious about what his friend had to say.

"About the future. Our future. We're almost men, you know."

Kenji smirked and returned his gaze to the sky. Kazuo was still a kid. A smart kid, but young and hesitant. He hadn't yet let go of his mother's hand, even though his fingers slipped a little further away each time.

"Almost," he said, pulling his other arm behind his head as well. A cloud had found its way over them. It was small and scuddy, an insignificant white blotch against the greater blue. If Kazuo could see it, he would probably find something poetic about it.

"Pop told me it's important to think about things like that. About who we are, what we want to do." Kazuo slipped his glasses back on his face and tucking both arms behind his head. "So that way there's no chance of people manipulating us into doing something distasteful. If you know who you are, no one can push you around."

"Aa," Kenji said. It was a good thought, he supposed. From where he stood though, the stronger you were in your beliefs, the more you had to fight people to keep them that way. Kazuo would find that out on his own once he had the spine to stand by his convictions away from family and friends.

"So who are you, Kazuo?" Kenji asked after a moment. "What do you want to be?"

"I want to be a physician," Kazuo said without hesitation. "Like Takani-sensei. But I want to learn western medicine from real western schools. And then I'll teach others what I know and maybe even travel Japan, helping everyone." His voice rose in excitement as he talked. And how would he afford it, Kenji wanted to ask. And even if he could afford it, what if he didn't understand it? If he was going to help everyone, did that include the murderers and thieves as well?

"What do you think?" Kazuo asked, sitting up and looking down at him. Kenji glanced at him a long moment. He thought it was foolish. Kazuo had no idea what he wanted. Helping people was all well and good to talk about, but in reality all it seemed to do was wear you down. After all, hadn't Father done that his whole life? And now he was weary and old and didn't even want to look at a sword much less pick one up. Kazuo's expression dimmed and he looked away from Kenji, his mouth turning down on one side. As if he was taking his own answers from Kenji's silence.

Kenji rolled into a seated positing, raising a hand and planting it firmly on Kazuo's head. The younger boy flinched but didn't look up at him. Kenji sighed inwardly. He was still such a little kid.

"I think you'll succeed at whatever you want to do."

"You really believe that?" Kazuo asked, looking up at him, his face flooded with light once more. Had that simple statement really meant that much to him? It was obvious to Kenji. Of course Kazuo would succeed, he was too stubborn not to, and Yahiko-ji was the kind of person who would be there to help whenever he needed it.

"Of course I do. But you have to believe it yourself, believe in yourself. There are people who are going to doubt you and try to pull you down and you have to get stronger than them. You have to have faith in your own convictions even when no one else will."

"Kenji…" Kazuo started. A piercing squeal interrupted him and suddenly something slammed hard into Kenji from behind, nearly knocking him face first into the ground. Strong thin arms wrapped around him in a hug, pressing against his neck and near strangling him while his vision was filled with dark red hair and flowers.

"Ease up, Inoi-chan," he gasped, trying to pull her arms away. She giggled and squeezed harder. What in the world was she so happy about all of a sudden?

"You sounded just like Papa when you said that!" she said, practically screaming right in his ear. Kenji felt his face heat.

"I did not, " he muttered, pulling harder at her thin arms but trying not to hurt her. He sounded nothing at all like Father. Inoi didn't know what she was talking about."You did so," she said with a stern voice. "Your face went all serious and you went narrow eyed like this." She let go of his neck only to reach up and pull at the corners of his eyes. "And you said 'believe in yourself'." She dipped her voice low as she mimicked him and Kenji fought back a grin. Instead he looked at Kazuo and with the most serious face he could muster said.

"De gozaru yo."

Kazuo snorted a laugh and Inoi's arms were once again around his neck, her shrill giggle rebounding inside his head. Kenji squinted one eye, moving his head away from her. She was going to make him completely deaf one day.

"Do it again! Do it again!" she said, pulling at him.

"Aaa, this one will be glad to do it again," Kenji said, pitching his voice a little deeper. "But first you have to pay the price!" Before she had a chance to escape he pulled her around and launched tickling fingers just under her ribs. She squealed and laughed, trying to get away. The flowers shook loose from her hair and showered Kazuo with loose petals.

"What's going on?" Shinta called. "Are you playing, oniichan? Let me play, too!"

"Me too, me too!' Michiko chimed in. Kenji glanced up and saw the two pelting for him at top speed. He had only enough time to let Inoi go before Shinta crashed into him, sending him hard into the ground. A small but strong foot planted firmly in his gut told him that Michiko had caught up as well.

"Help!" he gasped, lifting a hand and groping at the air. "Can't breathe!"

Shinta giggled and moved to crouch over Kenji, peering down at him. Michiko stared around Shinta's legs, eyes wide as she sucked on her fingers.

"Are you all right?" Shinta asked, the sunny smile fading a bit.

"Of course he is! Kenji-niichan is made of stone!" said Inoi.

"Even stone shatters," Kazuo said lightly. Kenji frowned. He didn't like that somehow. Even though he knew Kazuo was just teasing it seemed a dark thing to say. He lowered his arm back to the ground and something in his sleeve clattered against the ground and pressed smooth and warm against his skin. His frown deepened and he reached in his sleeve and pulled the object out. Oh, right, Fujita's pocket watch. Sunlight glinted against the gold of the watch as he clicked it open, listening for the reassuring tick that it still worked. Fujita was annoyed with him for taking it but would be murderous if it was broken.

"What's that?" Shinta asked. Kenji grimaced and stuffed the watch back into his sleeve.

"Nothing. Ne. Get off. I want to get up."

"It wasn't nothing," Inoi said with a frown of her own. "It looked shiny. What was it?"

"None of your business," Kenji said as Shinta moved off. He stood, brushing off his hakama. Inoi's lip pulled down in a pout and she put her fists on her hips. Kenji sighed heavily and rolled his eyes. He didn't think she would give in that easily.

"I bet it's something you're not supposed to have," she said in a sharp voice. "You better not be causing trouble again, Kenji." Her voice was loud and he was sure it carried.

"I don't know what you're talking about," he said, trying to keep his voice perfectly flat and resisting the urge to look back over his shoulder to see if the adults had heard her. Why did she have to be so nosy?

"Those are pretty flowers, Inoi-chan," Kazuo said quickly, standing as well. "Did you pick them around here?"

Inoi blinked at Kazuo and touched her hair where a few scraggly blossoms remained. Her face flushed a little and she nodded.

"Mm! I picked some of them by the gate. Do you want to see?" Inoi grabbed his arm before he could answer and started pulling him in the direction of the wall. Kenji shot his friend a grateful look before the boy was pulled off.

"You aren't going to get in trouble again, are you?" Shinta said. Kenji sighed heavily and glanced at his little brother. Shinta was gazing up at him with a wide solemn face. Michiko stood just behind him, clinging onto his sleeve. "Because you really shouldn't. It makes everyone really worried about you."

"Go play," Kenji said shortly, turning away from him and folding his hands in his sleeves. The only reason that he got in trouble so much was that Father didn't want him to do anything. The only reason they worried was because everyone thought he was still a child. He heard Shinta take a step toward him and started to walk away. He was tired of children. He was tired of nosy questions and threats of being told on.

He slowed his pace a little when he realized he needed somewhere to walk to. Leaving the dojo wouldn't be a good idea as Father would only ask him where he was going and Father had a strange way of picking out the truth no matter what Kenji said. Besides, Fujita wouldn't be showing up near Rakuninmura until after work and that would be sometime in the evening.

Sighing heavily, Kenji moved to where the adults were sitting and plopped cross legged beside his father. Father gave him a welcoming smile which he ignored and instead reached out and grabbed one of the last hamster shaped rice balls that were still on the platter. Suzume-neesan had joined the adults and was talking in her high bubbly way about her dear husband. Kenji nibbled on the rice ball and stared up at the blue sky.

"I'm surprised he let you out today at all," said Megumi-obasan in the tone adults used when they were annoyed but trying not to show it. Father shifted beside him and Kenji glanced at him. The corner of his mouth was turned down a little which meant he probably didn't approve of Suzume-niisan's husband either.

"Well he knows how lonely I get," Suzuno-niisan said brightly, as if she didn't notice. "And he's going to be busy all day. The son of one of his clients died today and he has to make arrangements for the funeral. It's so sad too," she said with a sigh, cuddling her baby close. "He was murdered, you know."

"Does anyone know who did it?" Yahiko-ji asked, sitting up. Tsubame-obasan put a hand on his shoulder but said nothing. Kenji sat up as well. Finally the conversation had gotten interesting! Murders happened all the time but maybe this one would be really bizarre.

"No. Though I suppose it's sort of expected considering the life he lead. He was the leader of a gang I think, very disrespectful. They say he was shot six times." She looked down as if she was embarrassed. "Whoever killed him must have wanted him dead."

Kenji rolled his eyes and got to his feet, unable to sit still any longer. That was a pretty obvious. It wasn't surprising either. There had been a lot of small gang battles going on, especially around Yanagibashi. Someone or some group was taking them down one by one, so Fujita had told him. He wandered if Fujita knew they had pistols now. They would have to be pretty well funded to afford that.

He spotted his shinai by the engawa and picked it up, swinging it lazily with one hand. The adults were silent about Suzume-niisan's news. One of those long thinking silences that could last for hours when his father did it. How could adults _think _so very much? Didn't they ever get bored? Finally he couldn't take it anymore.

"Spar with me, Yahiko-ji," he said, holding the shinai out in front of him and pointing it at his uncle. The adults all looked up at him and Kenji got the sudden feeling that he'd interrupted something important. He felt his ears burn and tried not to scowl at them. They hadn't even been saying anything! The feeling faded as Yahiko-ji gave him a lopsided smile.

"I knew you'd come around," he said, rising to his feet. "Can't go a day without being thoroughly beaten, can you?"

"You'd better watch what you say, Yahiko," Mama said. "Kenji's catching up to you really fast and one day soon he's going to be the one to beat you." There was confidence in her voice and a wide smile on her face as she glanced at Kenji. Kenji straightened and couldn't help but grin back.

"But it's not your fault," Kenji said to Yahiko-ji, lifting his head a little. "You are getting kinda old."

"Old, huh?" Yahiko-ji said, coming in front of him and reaching out to whack him lightly in the head with his knuckles. "Well I guess I would be from where you stand, little Kenji."

An insult to both his height and his age. Kenji was in a good enough mood to appreciate the pun and continued smirking at him.

"I'm ready whenever you are."

---

---

The tension hung in the air, a thin taunt wire that seemed to connect them. Kenji could feel it in his gut as he shifted his grip on the shinai. Yahiko-ji watched him steadily, and though his stance didn't betray it, he was ready for anything. Kenji could feel the eyes of his family on him, more importantly the eyes of his father. He was watching. He had to be watching. Mama wouldn't let him look away. She knew how important this was to him. Kenji's heart began to beat faster. He would show father everything he could do, and more.

Yahiko-ji slid his foot forward a little and Kenji slid his foot back, lifting the shinai just a little Yahiko-ji smirked. Kenji narrowed his eyes and focused. Even if his father was watching, he couldn't let his concentration slip. Even though they were just sparring, Yahiko-ji would fight to his best ability. He was a formidable opponent, strong and skilled. Plus the master of the Kamiya Kasshin, almost as good as Mama. But he didn't use any other style than that, and since the Kamyia Kasshin was mostly defensive, the one who attacked first would be at the greatest disadvantage.

Kenji smiled to himself, tilting his head down a little so Yahiko-ji's shoulder blocked the slight glare of the sun. Of course those rules only applied to those who strictly used the Kamiya Kasshin. If Kenji had just stuck to that style, he would never have survived the streets. Today was the day. Yahiko-ji shifted and his expression closed. He was going to attack first. Either a head strike or an attempt to knock the shinai from his hands. Suddenly Yahiko-ji burst into movement shinai coming at a level that could go either way. Kenji held his ground. Yahiko-ji swung the shinai in an upward motion. Headstrike? No to predictable. He was going to swing it around to a shoulder strike.

Yahiko-ji did as expected and Kenji ducked under it, the wind of the shinai ruffling his hair. He swung his own out for Yahiko-ji's feet but his uncle was too good and moved out of the way, bringing his weapon back lower for Kenji's head. Kenji twisted his body and blocked it. The bamboo crashed together, the shock of it running up Kenji's arms and lighting small fires in his blood. He could feel himself grinning as the feeling raced through him.

Yahiko-ji was pressing down hard on the shinai, but Kenji knew better then to fight his strength. Instead he jumped back, using the extra leverage of his uncle's strength to push himself further. Yahiko-ji didn't give much however and stopped himself before he opened his guard too much. But a small gap was all he needed. Kenji pushed himself forward and attacked. Yahiko-ji blocked it effectively but Kenji kept going, moving as fast as he could, anywhere he could see an opening. The crack of the shinai drowned him, fired through him. Again and again and again. Nothing existed except this. Nothing mattered except this. Even if Yahiko-ji was blocking all his attacks, that was all right, because it was taking him longer than it used to. Kenji was getting closer and closer to sneaking past his guard. To breaking through the Kamiya Kasshin. He attacked hard, going for Yahiko-ji's shoulder. Instead of blocking it, Yahiko-ji caught the shinai between the backs of his hands. Oh hell. Yahiko-ji pushed hard, using the leverage of the attack to send Kenji flying backward. He hit the ground hard, breath slamming out of him, dirt scraping at him as he slid.

Kenji sucked in a deep breath and almost immediately coughed it out. He rolled to his feet anyway, relaxing in a crouch, breathing hard. A high childish voice raised in a cheer. Kenji wasn't sure who they were cheering for and didn't care. Yahiko-ji smiled at him, but not in a mocking way. Instead his uncle braced his feet apart and leveled the shinai at him. An open challenge.

"HAAAA!" Kenji screamed, pushing off with the balls of his feet and racing toward Yahiko-ji once more. He swung the shinai low for his feet then twisted it up to catch the man in the stomach. Yahiko-ji jumped to the left, moving completely out of the way. Kenji pivoted and swung hard at his ribs but once again Yahiko-ji met him. Crack, crack, crack. The sweat rolled down his forehead and stung his eyes. He jerked to the side to avoid one of Yahiko-ji's attacks and lunged for him. He saw Yahiko-ji's shinai coming too fast and was unable to block it before it hit him hard across the face. He felt a flash of pain as his head twisted to the side and he stumbled, tasting blood in his mouth.

Yahiko-ji's face looked surprised, as if he hadn't intended that at all, or he'd expected Kenji to duck. Kenji should have ducked. No…no he should have been paying more attention. He clenched his hand around the shinai. Any other time it wouldn't have mattered. Any other time he would have let it go. But Father was still watching. Father was still watching and all he was doing was losing. There was no way to beat the Kamiya Kasshin though. He wasn't strong enough yet. Unless. Kenji narrowed his eyes. Could he? Could he try? If he did it right, it could beat anything, couldn't it? Yahiko-ji's hand on his shoulder startled him. He looked at his uncle who seemed concerned.

"Are you all right? I didn't mean to hit you that hard."

Kenji twisted his head to the side and spat out the blood in his mouth. He wiped his lips with his sleeve and absently checked for loose teeth with his tongue. Could he do it? Yes. He would. He would try.

"Kenji?" Yahiko-ji said. Kenji pushed Yahiko-ji's hand off his shoulder and smirked up at him. Instead of speaking, he just held up one finger, telling Yahiko-ji to wait. His uncle nodded, though his face still looked unsure as he stepped back and rested the shinai against his shoulder. Kenji turned and walked away from him, needing to think. He could see his family out of the corner of his eye, though he couldn't see their expressions, but right now he didn't want to. He wasn't ready to know what they thought yet. Not until he'd shown them. Could he show them? Would this really work? He stopped, resting the shinai across his shoulders and hanging his hands over it. Though the move had looked simple when father had done it during a kata so very long ago, it really wasn't. Kazuo had been helping him practice it for three months now and he still hadn't quite gotten it. The problem was height. His legs weren't strong enough to jump as high as he would need to. But how could he get that high? Kenji blew out a breath and stared at the wall that separated the courtyard from the street. There were cracks in it again. Why was everything in this place falling apart? The wall. His heart jerked in his chest as he realized. The wall. If he jumped off that, he could get as high as he needed to. But if he wasn't careful he could also hurt himself really badly. It was worth it. It was worth the risk. He let the shinai drop, holding it close to his side.

Then he gathered his strength and leapt for the wall. His feet hit the ledge and there was a brief frantic moment where he almost lost his balance. Kenji took a deep breath in and slowly let it go. Then, flicking a few strands of his ponytail back over his shoulder, he began to walk back to where Yahiko-ji was standing.

He crouched on the ledge, staring down at him. His palms were sweating and he absently wiped them against his hakama. If he failed he would never live it down. But he wouldn't fail. No. He would _succeed_. He would _win._ He had to. He closed his eyes tightly, focusing on what he had to do, trying to ingrain the instructions into every part of his body. He would do this. He would. His father had done it and he would be his father's son. He would show Papa just how good he really was. Kenji opened his eyes and the first thing he saw was Father standing. Watching him. Watching him intently. A unreadable expression on his face. Kenji met his father's eyes, feeling himself smile.

"Hiten Mitsurugi style," Kenji said, his voice ringing surprisingly clear across the quiet. Father's eyes widened. Kenji slammed his eyes shut and gathered everything he could into himself until it felt like he was ready to explode.  
"RYU TSUI SEN!" he screamed, launching himself into the air. Energy surrounded him, filled him. He was rising, going so high the wind whipping at his hair. Focus. Focus. DO THIS! He twisted his body in the air, aiming down, falling for Yahiko-ji like an arrow, his shinai posed to strike. Yahiko-ji lifted his own in defense and in the blink of an eye, Kenji was there. The swords cracked together with a force that ran through Kenji's body. He grabbed his uncle's shinai almost without thinking and used it to brace himself as he twisted his body backward, arching through the air behind Yahiko-ji. In a breath the solid ground thudded against the soles of his feet and his knees gave so he almost, almost went down, but he managed to stop himself and slowly raised himself to his feet, pointing a trembling shinai to the back of Yahiko-ji's neck.

"You're dead," he said in wavery voice. There was a dead silence, as if every sound in the world had disappeared.

"KAMI-SAMA, YOU DID IT!" Kazuo's scream shattered the void and Kenji turned with a wild grin to see his best friend running up to him, waving his arms and screaming "You did it! You did it!"

Kenji threw back his head and laughed. He wanted to scream. He wanted to turn around in circles until he got dizzy. He'd done it! He'd actually done it! His laugh was cut short when Kazuo plowed into him, grabbing him around the neck in a brief but suffocating hug.

"You did it! You really did! That was so amazing!"

"Yeah, I did," Kenji said, rolling his head from side to side before propping the shinai against his shoulder. He had done it. He wanted to do it again.

"Where did you learn that?" Father's voice was mild but cut through the air like a knife. Even Kazuo stopped shrieking and backed away a step. Kenji glanced at father's face. There was no pride there. No joy. There didn't seem to be anything. Like he was staring at a brick wall. What? Why was he looking like that? Hadn't he seen what Kenji had just done? Hadn't he _seen _that? Didn't he know how _hard _that had been to learn?

"Where did you learn that, Kenji?" Father said again, voice hard. "Who taught you?"

"I taught," Kenji's voice croaked in his throat. He refused to gulp. He refused to show any sign of intimidation because he _wasn't _intimidated. Kenji set his jaw, braced his feet and tilted his head up a little. "I taught myself," he said, forcing the words past the harshness of his throat.

Father stared hard at him, as if he thought he was lying. As if he thought he was _lying. _Anger boiled in Kenji's stomach. Didn't Father think he was capable of learning things on his own? Did Father think he was completely incompetent? Completely dependant on Mama's teaching? Father lowered his gaze for a moment, but when he looked back; his face was as hard as ever. There was nothing there. As if the man that was his father didn't even exist. Kenji hated it. Hated it worse then Father's sadness. Hated it more than anything.

"I want you to stop. This era has no need for techniques like that."

And that's what he always did. He wouldn't watch when Kenji practiced. He wasn't there when Kenji wanted to show him things. The only thing he wanted was for Kenji to stop. To throw away the shinai. To stay close to the house. To be stifled and drowned in the nothingness that was here. Kenji stiffened his shoulders. Well too bad. He wasn't going to let his father win. He wasn't going to let his father hold him down.

"I don't care what this era wants. I'm going to be the best swordsman there ever was!" Even better than Father! He was going to be so good that he wouldn't be able to go anywhere without people knowing who he was.

"Many people have died for that title, Kenji." Father hesitated a moment. Kenji saw his hand twitch, as if wanting a sword. "Many people have killed for it."

Is that what he thought? That Kenji would become a killer? Is that really what he thought? Father didn't know him. Father didn't know him at all. Father had never known him and maybe, no, not maybe. Kenji didn't know him either. Not at all.

"You think you know everything," Kenji spat. "You think you have the answer to everything. But you don't."

Kazuo gasped and Father's eyes narrowed just a little.

"I know how the world works, Kenji. I know the path you're on and if you don't stop, someone is going to get hurt." His expression softened slightly. "It could very well be someone close to you."

It was— He'd worked so hard. So damn hard on that. But all Father could do was accuse him. Tell him he was going to end up being a bad person. Just because he was good. Just because he dreamed of being something more.

"Just because I want to be a swordsman doesn't mean I'm going to be a murderer," he said, wanting to scream it. Even though he wanted to tear it into his father's skin, to make him hurt, to make him understand. Mama gave a choking gasp and Kenji's heart twisted, but he forced himself not to care. He gripped the shinai hard, his arm shaking, his entire body trembling. Father's face was made of stone. He'd closed Kenji off. Shut him away. As if it didn't really matter. But of course it didn't. No, only the good children mattered to him.

"The only style you are to be studying is the Kamiya Kasshin, do you understand me?"

"Go to hell." The words shot out of Kenji's mouth before he even knew there were there. He wished he could have unsaid them. Taken them back. Plucked them from the air before anyone heard.

"Kenshin's just trying to help you," Yahiko-ji snapped. Kenji started at the anger in his uncle's voice. He glanced at Yahiko-ji who looked just as furious as he sounded. "Stop acting like a selfish brat and pay attention!"

So now he was against him to. Everyone was against him. Everyone was trying to drag him down. Tearing at him.

"Shut up!" he snapped. "You don't know anything!"

"I know that you're not the greatest swordsman and you never will be with an attitude like that!"

"He's right, that he is," Father said in a tired voice.

Kenji fought back the tears that were rising against the backs of his eyes. He was going to say something. Something to show them all.

"I—"

"Please." Mama's voice blocked his words, lurched into his heart. "Please, stop." He could tell she was crying even though he wasn't looking at her.

"Kaoru-dono," Father said, all the steel gone from his voice. Kenji didn't look at her. Couldn't look at her. He had to get away from here. Far away. Anywhere. Before his heart was torn to pieces.

"If you're going to go out, come back with a better attitude," Megumi-obasan said when Kenji was at the door. "Your mother doesn't need the stress right now."

"I'm…I'm fine," Mama sobbed. Kenji pushed open the door and walked out into the street, shutting it quietly behind him. She was still crying. Because of him. Because no one would pay attention to him. Would really listen to him. All they cared about was what he did wrong. He listened to her crying anyway, didn't let it go, held it close to his heart. And he could still hear it whispering in his head even when the dojo was long out of sight.

---

---

Sorry this was so late. Chapters are, sadly, not going to be regular as I have become rather busy but I'm still working on it slowly but surely!

Much thanks to my Midwife Anreg and the wonderful incomparable Effinator, without whom this story would be less.

(and sorry, Anreg. I got impatient in posting. XD: )


	7. Dance of the Firefly

The clearing was so small it barely classified as one. Tall strong trees ringed around the patch of thick green grass, stopping where a stream cut a path through the dark earth, tumbling and babbling over stones in its rocky bed. Just beyond the stream, lost out of sight among the trees was Rakuninmura. The water from this stream either ran around it or came out from somewhere underground, because it was clean and cold.

Though Kenji wasn't sure where it came from, he knew that if he followed it two miles or so, there was a garden hidden behind a thick cluster of trees. He knew who tended it and had actually planted a few things there, himself, every once in a while. He would need to go back once the seeds that he'd ordered came in. He'd promised he would and promises were very important there. More important than anywhere else.

Kenji sat up from where he'd been lying in the grass and leaned forward, digging his fingers into the cool earth. The watch shifted against his wrist, scraping softly against his skin. Thinking of promises. It was dusk now, or near enough. Darkness fell early in the forest. Fujita should be here soon. Kenji pulled the watch out of his sleeve and clicked it open, watching the elegant black bars inside the watch tick by. Fujita called them hands, but Kenji didn't think they looked anything like hands. Still it was such a pretty watch. He brushed his fingers lightly over the glass, then the smooth silver of the other side. Small grooves slid under the pads of his fingers. Kenji blinked and lifted his hand away from the watch, tilting it so the fading light touched it. There was kanji there, tucked along the bottom rim.

_For my son._

Something pinched Kenji deep down, right between his gut and his heart, pulling at his stomach. He set his jaw and closed the watch, curling his fingers around it. The words echoed in his head as if someone had spoken them. For my son. For my son. His grip tightened, the sides of the watch digging against his skin. A wild urge raged through him to try to crush the watch in his bare hand, beat it with a rock, toss it into the stream where it would never be found again. It wasn't fair. It just wasn't fair. A sharp feeling cut through him and Kenji set the watch on the ground before he really did throw it and instead clawed his fingers in the dirt once more. Fujita…Fujita was just like him! He thought like him, they did the same things, so why?

He would bet his life that if Fujita had worked really hard, and nearly broken his leg a few times, just to learn a technique, _his _father wouldn't criticize him for it. Fujita's father probably wouldn't accuse him of wanting to be a murderer, either. Father just didn't understand. Neither did Yahiko-ji, even though he should. Kenji had heard enough stories to know that if Father had forbidden Yahiko-ji to fight when he was younger, Yahiko-ji would have fought even harder, just to prove that he could. Father would have respected him for it, too, Kenji knew. Though it seemed that Father respected everyone in Japan to one degree or another. Well, everyone except Kenji. Maybe because he was going to be a murderer he didn't deserve it.

Kenji scowled, picked up a clod of earth and threw it hard toward the stream. The clod fell apart in midair and only a few small clumps managed to hit the water where they were carried away in an instant, as if they'd never been. Kenji grunted and leaned back on his hands. The anger that flared through him simmered into frustration that clenched low in his gut, but even that faded, leaving Kenji feeling strangely hollow. He stared at the stream without really seeing it. Maybe he was missing something. Maybe that was why Father didn't seem to like him lately. Maybe Yahiko-ji possessed something that Kenji didn't that made it okay for him to fight. Kenji sighed. Even if that was true, Father would never tell him what that quality was. Father never told him anything.

There was a rustle in the bushes. The small sharp snap of a twig. Whoever was coming didn't mind being heard. Kenji grabbed his shinai and jumped to his feet, whirling to face the trees. Even though he was fairly far out into the woods, that wouldn't stop drunken vagrants or petty thieves from stumbling on him. Instead of a criminal, however, the tall angled form of Fujita Tomu appeared at the edge of the trees. He narrowed his eyes as he saw Kenji, fingers reaching down to ghost along the hilt of the police saber that hung at his side.

"I didn't know you got a promotion," Kenji said dryly, dropping the shinai back to rest on his shoulder. "Or are they just handing out state issued sabers these days?"

"That's none of your business," Fujita said curtly, fishing a small tin case out of his pocket. He flicked the lid open revealing a neat row of cigarettes.

"Ha! I bet you borrowed it without asking," Kenji said, smirking as Fujita fumbled out a cigarette and nearly dropped the case. Though his body language seemed to prove Kenji right, Fujita's face remained calm. He clicked the case closed and shoved it back in his pocket.

"I bought the weapon because I assumed you would bring a blade as well. But I see you haven't." Fujita glared at him. "Don't worry, I'm not going to kill you but I'm not going to go easy on you either. You had no right taking that watch."

The watch… Kenji glanced to where it was still lying on the grass and picked it up, feeling the weight of it on his palm. Some impulse made him press the button to open it and the falling light of the day caught the faint outlines of the kanji. _For my son. _ Suddenly stealing the watch seemed like a stupid, childish thing to do. And even a stupider way to pick a fight.

"Don't you even think about breaking it," Fujita said in a hard voice. "Father gave that to me. Not that I expect you to understand the value."

"Oh come on," Kenji snapped. He didn't mean to be irritated but Fujita's words had stung deep, twisting hard into his gut. Lunging forward, he grabbed the older boy's hand, wrenched it around and slapped the watch into it. "Give me some credit, asshole."

With a scowl, Kenji marched past him, further into the woods. Damn that Fujita. How did he always know what to say to make things that much worse? Of course… Of course Kenji had said some pretty mean things too… To someone more important to him than anything. The sobering thought slowed his pace, twisted the anger into a heavy weight that pulled him down. He hadn't meant to say… Well, maybe he had but… If Father only understood. He'd worked _so_ hard….

"Himura."

Kenji stopped at the sound of Fujita calling his name and tilted his head a little to acknowledge that he heard but didn't look back. Whatever Fujita had to say would probably be insulting and Kenji braced himself for it and waited. After a moment of no sound except a faint breeze, Kenji turned and gave the older boy a bland look. Fujita was staring off into the trees, absently holding the cigarette to his lips. He closed his eyes and took a long drag. The light at the end of the cigarette flared bright red. Kenji waited impatiently as Fujita pulled the cigarette away and blew out a long, thin stream of smoke before finally looking at him.

"I'm sorry," Fujita said. It was sudden and blunt and startled Kenji into silence, but the boy quickly recovered and sighed heavily, shifting his glance past Fujita to what he could see of the clearing and the stream.

"Me too," he said. Another silence then, peaceful in its own way. Fujita finished his cigarette and stubbed it out on a nearby tree before flicking it carelessly onto the ground.

"Don't do that," Kenji grumbled, glaring at the butt. "Have some respect for a sacred place, would you?"

Fujita raised his eyebrows as if he doubted the clearing was sacred at all, but he picked up the butt anyway and slipped it into his cigarette case. Kenji nodded in thanks. It wasn't much of a place, not really, but it was his.

"Why do you smoke anyway?" Kenji asked as Fujita shut the case and began walking toward him. Kenji fell in step as the older boy went past him and though they were side by side, Kenji had to take a stride more to keep it that way. Damn Fujita and his long legs. "It's not going to turn you into your father, you know."

"And wearing your hair like that isn't going to turn you into yours," Fujita said without missing a beat. Kenji flinched inwardly at the dig, but knew what Fujita said was true. He also knew, though, that Fujita wanted to be just like his father as well. It was why he worked so hard at everything and always seemed to be on duty. Even though he wasn't even a junior officer yet, Kenji could count the times on one hand when he'd seen him out of uniform. Kenji didn't know much about their relationship really. Fujita was quiet about his family life for the most part and the few times Kenji had seen Saitou, the man had done nothing but stare at him appraisingly with cold yellow eyes. However there was one thing that Kenji was sure of. Saitou accepted who Fujita was. Saitou was proud of him. Was proud to call him his son.

"I'm hungry," Fujita said. Kenji blinked and looked up. He could see bits of the city through the trees. There was a scratching sound followed by a soft pop and a sulfurous smell as Fujita lit a match. "Do you want to go somewhere?" Fujita asked, stopping so he could light his cigarette. Kenji stopped with him, thinking of the few places he knew. Mostly he just ate at the Akabeko or roadside stands. But the Akabeko was out of the question unless he wanted to be under Tsubame-obasan's worried gaze all night.

"As long as it isn't the Akabeko, I don't care," Kenji said with a shrug. Then he grinned. "We could go out for soba."

Fujita glared at him over the flame of the match. Then shook it out and took a draw on his cigarette.

"You know, the day was rather pleasant until you mentioned it," Fujita said, puffing out a big obnoxious cloud of smoke. "I'd gone so long without even thinking about it."

"Work must be keeping Saitou-san busy," Kenji said as they started walking again.

"He's away as it happens," Fujita said. "Taking Tsuyoshi on his Kyoto pilgrimage." Whether Fujita thought this was good or bad, Kenji couldn't tell. When Fujita talked about his family at all, his younger brother came up lesser still. Kenji had only seen him once and he'd been narrow eyed and sullen and threatening to tell their father that Fujita was being an idiot. All in all, he'd seemed like a typical younger sibling to Kenji.

"I honestly don't know how he stomachs the stuff day in and day out," Fujita muttered.

"Must be some sort of family defect," Kenji said lightly, absently plucking a leaf from a nearby tree and twirling it between his fingers.

"Shut up," Fujita said, but made no move to hit him.

The sun had set by the time they emerged from the forest. Twilight wrapped the world in a soft blue, and a soft lazy summer wind blew from ahead, bringing with it the smell of cooking food. The houses here were small and poor, but well cared for. A woman crouched outside her door, stirring something in a pot with a tiny fire flickering underneath it. A huddle of children around the twins' age ran back and forth along the narrow dusty road, chasing each other and squealing as they enjoyed the last remnants of light. A young boy in a patched blue yakuta ran apart from the others, closer to them. He was reaching up, trying to catch a firefly that danced and flickered just out of his reach. Kenji paused and flicked out his hand, gently catching the small insect. The boy came to a stop and looked up at him with wide brown eyes. Kenji smiled and crouched down to the boy's level, opening his hand to show the firefly crawling around on his palm.

"Thank you, oniisan!" the boy said, grabbing for it. Kenji closed his fingers a little, keeping the firefly from the boy's clumsy grasp. The boy frowned at him and Kenji smiled.

"You have to be careful with fireflies, that you do," he said softly. "They're easily squished."

"Oh," the boy said.

"Hold out your hands," Kenji told him. The boy obeyed and watched solemnly as Kenji tucked his hand next to the boy's and let the firefly crawl from his fingertips onto the boy's palm. The firefly lit up and so did the boy's face, his eyes widening in wonder. Shinta would have grinned…and then probably tackled his leg. Kenji smiled to himself and stood. He fully expected Fujita to have gone on without him, but when he turned he was mildly surprised to find the older boy waiting patiently for him.

"You really do have a decent side," Fujita said coolly as Kenji came beside him. "I'm amazed."

Kenji ignored him and they began to walk again, but at a slower pace. The city lit up as night fell. Warm light seemed to glow from every house and as they passed sometimes Kenji could catch a snatch of laughter or conversation. They turned a corner and houses and restaurants lined either side of the road, lit against the night. It was as if the city was welcoming them home. But it was home. There wasn't a street for miles that Kenji didn't know, from the broad avenues to the shady alleys. He'd been exploring the city since he was old enough to walk. His earliest memory was slipping away from Yahiko-ji's hand and walking in a forest of legs and kimono, looking at the far away faces of the adults and the buildings that towered above them.

"Those children should be inside by now," Fujita murmured.

"Hm?" Kenji glanced around, but there was no one on the street but them. "What children?"

Fujita waved his hand vaguely over his shoulder toward the place they had just come from. Kenji shrugged. It was still a bit early to be herded inside. Even though by now, it was mostly dark.

"What difference does it make?" he asked out of idle curiosity. Fujita said nothing for a moment, looking at the smoldering cigarette as if he'd never seen it before. Then he slowly shook his head and put the cigarette back between his lips, though he no longer seemed interested in it. Kenji watched him; Fujita's expression was closed and unreadable as he stared off into the distance. There was nothing interesting down the street except for shadows and the faint glow of lamplight. Kenji had the feeling that the older boy had turned inward.

"Fujita?" Kenji said. There was something obviously bothering him. Usually he told Kenji what in one way or another. This time, however, Fujita just looked at him…as if he was considering something.

"There," he said, pointing over Kenji's shoulder. Kenji turned and saw a small restaurant crammed between two darkened stores. It was so small; Kenji couldn't even see a name for it.

"What about it?"

"Let's eat there, moron," Fujita said lightly, dropping his cigarette on the ground and grinding it out with his foot. Kenji frowned. Though Fujita seemed to have gone back to his callous self, he was obviously keeping something from him. Something important.

Fujita's mood seemed to shift again as they took off their shoes and entered the little restaurant. Kenji almost immediately stepped back out again. The air was full and thick with smoke. He would have thought there was a fire if not for the fact that almost everyone in the place had a cigarette. There weren't even any kind of tables, just men and some women sitting on the floor, hunched around cards or clattering dice. The people closest to the door looked up from the card game they were playing.

"I'm not eating here," Kenji said, putting a sleeve up to his nose to try and block out the smell. The smoke stung his eyes and made them water. "I won't even be able to taste my food."

A few men close enough to hear chuckled and Kenji glared but that only seemed to improve their mood.

"You know how to use that, samurai boy?" asked one of the men, nodding to the shinai at Kenji's side. "Or can you just wave it around?"

"I can beat you with it, old man," Kenji snapped. The man's face darkened and he began to slowly reach into his sleeve.

"I'm not sure the proprietor would like it if you pulled a knife in here again, Muto," Fujita said mildly. "Especially since you were goaded into it by a kid."

Kid? What the hell was Fujita playing at? Kenji glared up at him and Fujita gave him a warning look. Kenji snorted and folded his arms. Maybe this had something to do with what Fujita wouldn't tell him earlier. Fine. He would play along for now. But it better be worth it.

"Someone should teach that kid some manners," the one named Muto grumbled. He spread the cards that he was holding and hunched over, picking idly at his long scabbed foot. "What do you want here, officer?"

"I want to see Hamachi."

"You and everyone else." The man paused as he lifted the cigarette to his mouth and inhaled it almost all the way down. "Back of the room," Muto said around it. "But she's in a foul mood so you'd better watch it."

Kenji scowled at the men one last time before following close behind Fujita through the crowded place. This was no restaurant like he'd ever seen. It must be a gambling hall of some sort. What sort of business could Fujita have here, he wondered? As far as he knew, Fujita didn't gamble. That was illegal wasn't it? They came to the back of the room and into a little alcove hidden by a curtain. A crabbed old woman was sitting there, smoking on a pipe and watching a group of men play a dice game intently.

"Hamachi-san?" Fujita said when the old woman didn't say anything. She took a long draw from her pipe, then blew out so the smoke curled along the stem.

"You know I don't like dealing this way, boy." She looked up at him finally, her gaze sharp. "And I especially don't like dealing with you." Her eyes slid to Kenji but she looked away before he could speak. Kenji frowned, not liking to be dismissed so easily. What, did she think he was young? Some little kid who'd wandered in after his big brother.

"I realize that," Fujita said. "But--"

"Fact is," said the old woman leaning back and glancing once more at the dice game. "You owe me a debt. A debt I still haven't seen returned. That's not very polite at all."

"We're…we're working on it," said Fujita.

"So is the government's answer to everything." She tapped out the pipe and leaned back against the wall. "Well I have no news for you," she said, folding her hands on her lap. They were pale and crabbed, standing out against the red of her kimono. Kenji noticed a long thin scar trailing across her neck. Someone must have cut her deep there a long time ago.

"Please, Hamachi-san, once Father returns he can arrange things," Fujita said, kneeling to her level. Any more and Kenji thought he was going to bow. "And even more than we promised."

"Oh ho," said the old woman, giving him a bland look. "But can _you _really promise that, I wonder?"

Fujita was silent and Kenji watched him clench at his pant legs as he sought for the words. Kenji would like to help. Even though Fujita was a bastard at times, they stood with each other against bad guys like this. And he was fairly certain this woman was a bad guy. She seemed to have a certain sense about her. Like the edge of a blade just barely sheathed. Kenji rested his fingers on the hilt of the shinai, tapping them impatiently as Fujita just kneeled there and the men went on gambling and the old woman closed her eyes, as if she'd fallen asleep. Well this was ridiculous. Just stepping in, though, was liable to make him look stupid so Kenji hung back by the doorway and thought about it.

The woman obviously had some information Fujita wanted. That would be the only thing Fujita would want to get from her in order to involve his father in it. The fact that Fujita still hadn't said anything meant that he was thinking it over carefully, probably desperately. Which, for one, would take a while and for another probably meant that whatever it was, was very important to him. Maybe he could say something. He wanted to snap at the both of them but that would only just get them mad. Adults were so stupid sometimes. There was one way to approach it though, just so he wouldn't be standing here being slowly suffocated by all the smoke.

"I'm sure that Fujita's cause is just," Kenji said, trying to mimic the calm way that father had. The old woman sat up, peering at him, squinting as if she couldn't quite see him. Kenji found he liked the idea of being half in the shadows. "And I'm doubly sure that whatever debt he promises you he'll be able to pay. So I'd appreciate it if you helped him out, de gozaru." He added the last just for effect.

The old woman bolted from her seat like a striking snake and grabbed his chin with pinching fingers, dragging him forward. Kenji yelped, too surprised to resist and stumbled into a pool of light. The woman's eyes widened and she touched his cheek in an almost motherly way.

"Flesh and blood," she murmured. "You assuredly are." She dropped her hand from his face and touched the line on her neck. "Himura…"

"Himura Kenji," Kenji said, rubbing his face and wondering if this old bat was completely insane. A strange expression misted over her wrinkled face and her eyes flickered in a half blink.

"Your father saved my life, you know," she said in a whisper. "I was a hairsbreadth…"

"Oh." Was all Kenji could say. The way she spoke was so strange. A hushed way. Like his father was some sort of wonderful strange spirit.

"You could say that you owe him a debt," Fujita said quietly. The old woman's face turned to stone in an instant. Kenji took the opportunity to back away from her, just so he wouldn't get pinched by her.

"You're a sneaky bastard, Saitou Tsutomu," she said. "Fine. You have your way this one and only time. Do you understand?"

"I do," Fujita said, unbuttoning the jacket of his police uniform and sliding it off before sitting back against the wall himself.

"Good. Saiyu." At her voice, a man rose up from the dice game and bowed low. "Get food. Soba." Her mouth twisted into a smirk at Fujita's low groan. "The rest of you, find somewhere else to be."

Kenji stepped aside as the men cleared out and there was just the three of them. The woman looked at him from time to time, and then after a while, lit a pipe and stopped looking all together. Fujita just folded his hands on his lap and stared at the wall. What the hell was going on? Kenji glared at Fujita's head as he rubbed his aching jaw. The boy had used him for something. He wasn't sure what. They didn't seem to be going to start talking anytime soon.

"Oi," Kenji muttered, nudging Fujita's leg with his foot. "Are you going to tell me what's going on or not?"

"Sit down and shut up," Fujita said. Kenji kicked him harder and Fujita winced and glared at him.

"Don't order me around, you jerk. Tell me."

"Well," said the old woman unexpectedly. "You really aren't a thing like him, are you?" She was giving him a cool look over her pipe.

"What are you talking about?" he asked, annoyed by the critical way she was looking at him, as if he'd suddenly become something less in her eyes. Not that he really cared one way or the other.

"Your father. You know, I've only met Himura Kenshin once and already I can tell that you have none of his spirit. These times are so disappointing." She sighed heavily, gusting a huge ring of smoke. Kenji wanted to shove the pipe down her throat. How dare she say that? What the hell did she know anyway?

"Look, you old crone--" he started.

"Himura, I swear to every god in every heaven that if you ruin this for me I will gut you like a fish," Fujita said, voice mild but eyes cutting sharp as he glared up at him. "Sit down and shut up or get out."

What? Kenji clenched his hands into fists. He'd just helped Fujita out! He'd just helped the ungrateful jerk out and all he could tell him was to shut up or leave? All Kenji wanted to know was what was going on! On the other hand… On the other hand maybe it was that important. Kenji sat down heavily, folding his arms across his chest and glaring at the tatami. It _better _be important. Though he sensed that it was. Kenji sighed deeply and ended up coughing as the smoke got in. The irritation knotted in his stomach faded to complete boredom as nothing continued to happen.

"How do you know my father?" Kenji had asked just to fill the silence with _something. _Then discovered he really wanted to know. He pulled his knees up and wrapped his arms around them as he looked at the old woman. "What was he like back then?"

"Hm?" she blinked at him, as if coming out of a trance. She took so long to answer that Kenji didn't think she would at all. After a moment she looked off again, staring somewhere past the wall.

"He was a young man when I knew him," she said in a slow voice. "He'd just left the war, I think, and it was very heavy on his face and heart. I've never known a young person to be full of such sorrow."

That sounded like father alright. Kenji let his gaze slide back to the tatami, trying to picture it in his mind's eye, though it was always hard to imagine his father as young. It seemed he'd been old forever.

"My niece and I were traveling, trying to escape the chaos of the war…and we were attacked. To this day, I don't know why. My darling husband was killed and then I was cut and I thought we were all going to die. But then Himura came out of nowhere. He fought like a demon."

Kenji felt a shiver crawl down his spine at the tone of her voice. He couldn't imagine Father doing that either. Nothing about Papa was vaguely demonic. If he didn't know better, he would think the old woman was talking about an entirely different Himura.

"That's a long time to remember such a thing," said Fujita.

"Well when someone saves your life, it does tend to stick in your mind," said the old woman dryly. "And I'll never forget…"

Kenji stole a glance at her and found her eyes were closed. There was such a strange expression on her face.

"I was bleeding so much," she said, voice distant, barely above a whisper. "The snow was red with my blood. But he told me I wouldn't die because I had someone to live for. And even though a fever took my niece the very next year, I still managed to live on. Frankly, it seemed disrespectful to do otherwise." Her voice came back to normal and she gave him a hard, flinty-eyed stare.

"If your father is still like the man I knew, he's too good a man for you to be having such a rude attitude about you."

Kenji rolled his eyes and looked away. Just who did that old woman think she was? She hardly even knew him. Just because she'd met Father once didn't mean she had the right to say things like that. It wasn't worth it to argue with her though. That would only get Fujita mad and cause another mess. Kenji rested his chin on his knees again and tried to think of other things. The soba came soon and Kenji thanked the man as he handed him his bowl. He almost regretted thanking him as he looked into it. Soba tasted alright, but it looked disgusting. It always reminded Kenji of small wiggly worm guts. Or at least that's what Inoi had said once and he hadn't been able to get the image out of his head ever since.

Still, he was hungry. Kenji poked around with his chopsticks a bit, trying not to think about it, then lifted some to his mouth. Maybe it was this room or the people who'd cooked it, but it tasted like cigarette smoke. Ugh. At least he wasn't the only one disgusted by it. Fujita's eyes were narrowed; one slightly more than the other and twitching slightly as he slowly ate.

"Cheer up, boy," said the old woman, her creaky voice amused. "It can't be that bad. It's food, isn't it?"

Kenji wasn't sure which of them she was talking to and so remained quiet. He didn't trust himself to speak to her anyway. If all this was for something stupid he was going to beat Fujita senseless. Fujita didn't answer either and silence once more fell over the room. The bowl was halfway empty when something twitched through Kenji, as if someone had plucked at a taunt string inside him. Little tingles raced up his spine and spread over the back of his neck. He looked up, glancing out the door of the alcove to the smoky room beyond. He got this feeling sometimes when someone was creeping up behind him. But his back was to the wall. Still the feeling wouldn't go away. There was something…

Fujita was looking up as well, staring into the room, eyes narrowed in concentration this time. He met Kenji's gaze and cocked his head slightly, asking Kenji to go see what it might be. Kenji nodded and set the bowl to the side, rising to his feet and absently resting his hand against the hilt of the shinai.

"You're going to leave?" said the old woman. "You aren't even finished."

"Thank you for the meal," Kenji said with a bow; then he walked out without waiting.

"What manners," said the old woman in a stony voice.

"He has his moments," Fujita said quietly. Kenji put them out of his mind and focused on the task at hand. Something was going to happen. He could feel it. Like the smell before a storm. Wherever the feeling was coming from, though, it wasn't in here. No one even looked at him as he passed by. It must be outside then.

Kenji stepped down into his sandals, tapping them into place and hesitated before opening the door and stepping out into the street. It was dark and a cool breeze brushed against the fine hairs on the back of his neck. He rolled his neck from side to side, loosening the muscles, looking on both sides of the street. A scream broke through the night like shattering glass.

He startled and whipped around to face the direction the scream had come from. A small figure was running toward him, dressed in a short yakuta, cast into light and shadows as she ran by the windows. There were dark shapes behind her, men, thugs, determined looks on their faces. Kenji's blood flared hot. One of the thugs caught up with her, grabbing her arm, she shrieked in pain. Kenji took off, his feet hitting hard against the ground. How dare they! His blood was screaming in his ears as the man and girl came closer and closer. Kenji gritted his teeth, anger flaring through him, and slid to a stop in front of them. The man stared in shock and Kenji swung the shinai around hard, feeling a crunch as it hit his ribs. The man screamed and doubled over. Kenji brought the shinai back, smashing it down on the brawny arm that still held the girl fast. The man let go of her and Kenji slammed the shinai hard against his head, then did it again and again until he fell. The girl stared at him, blood leaking out of the corner of her mouth, chest heaving. The other men began yelling.

"Run," he said, then turned and lunged toward the men, running as fast as he could. There were four of them. Large. Kenji screamed himself, throwing himself forward, burying his shinai into the first man's stomach and leaping out of the way as the man's own momentum sent him arching forward toward the ground. Kenji snapped the shinai hard across his back, then whirled around and got the second man in the stomach and chin, finally smacking him across the face. The man straightened, cursing, and swung at him, going right for his head. Kenji moved away from it, then the other fist that immediately followed from the other direction. The man overcompensated, throwing himself off balance and Kenji darted behind him, slamming the shinai against the back of his legs. The man crashed backwards just as a strong hand grabbed Kenji's shoulder in a hard grip. Kenji grabbed the hand and knocked his foot backward, curling it around the other man's to unbalance him before throwing him to the ground on top of one of the other men struggling to get up. Kenji still kept hold of the man's arm, however, and wrenched it until he felt the bone snap.

"You little bastard!" snarled the last man. Kenji moved to face him, holding the shinai in a defensive stance. This man was thinner than the others but his movements were graceful.

"I'll show you," the man snapped, pulling a wooden sword from his side. A smirk twisted his features and he pushed up on the top with his thumb, there was a snicking sound and the glint of a blade appeared in the faint light. Kenji felt his insides grow cold. Damnit. No. Kenji narrowed his eyes. He wouldn't be afraid.

"HAA!" he screamed, starting forward. But suddenly the sword was flashing through the air, slicing straight toward his chest. Kenji threw himself to the side, stumbling a few steps. There wasn't time to recover before the man came at him again. Kenji raised his shinai in an attempt to block, only to have the tip of it be sheared away. The man laughed. Kenji took advantage of his dropped guard and scrambled forward, sinking what was left of the shinai into the man's stomach. He wheezed and doubled over.

"Kenji!" Fujita called. Kenji glanced in the direction of his voice and yelped as bright fire ripped down his shoulder. He turned his attention back to the man who held the sword, now dripping with blood. Kenji cursed and gripped the spot that had been cut, feeling the hot slick blood pour over his fingers. His hand trembled but he kept a firm grip on the shinai.

"Prepare to die, little fool," the man snarled, raising the sword to get him from above. He could hear Fujita's feet, slow against the dirt road, hear the girl screaming and the sword coming down. Kenji raised the shinai, holding it longwise, bracing the other end with his good hand. As soon as the blade hit the bamboo he pushed the shinai up, forcing the blade to go at an angle. It slid through, slowed, stopped. The man blinked. Kenji pushed forward and snapped his knee up between the man's legs as hard as he could. The man gave a wavery scream, and was soon on the ground, taking the sword with him. Kenji let the remnants of the shinai go and stumbled back to rest against the wall of a nearby building, clutching at his shoulder, breathing hard. Sweat dripped down his forehead, his neck, stung at the wound.

He watched through heavy lidded eyes as Fujita ran toward him. The girl stood a little ways behind him, her hands pressed against her mouth. Hadn't he told her to run? She couldn't be any more than eight or nine years old. What was she doing out this late?

"Kenji. Are you all right?" Fujita asked. Kenji nodded. It was just a scratch. He hoped. Fujita shouldn't have even bothered to ask because he pushed Kenji's hand away and looked at the wound anyway. Kenji looked at it himself. He couldn't tell if it was bad. Everything seemed to be working. Fujita cursed under his breath. There was a ripping sound and Kenji looked up to see the girl was tearing at the hem of her yakuta. When she'd gotten a good portion off, she came up to them hesitantly, holding it out.

"A bandage," she said softly as Fujita blinked at her.

"Ah, thank you." Fujita took the cloth and Kenji held still as the older boy bound his shoulder. He tried not to wince at the pain Fujita's movements caused and instead focused on the girl. Her hair was disheveled and her face thin. There were large purple bruises along her neck that looked suspiciously like fingers.

"Who were those men?" Kenji asked.

"Kidnappers," Fujita said. "Filthy bastards who are taking children from all over the country. Isn't that right?"

The girl nodded and looked down, twisting her fingers together. Her knotted hair fell around her shoulders. It was if she was ashamed of it. She made a little noise as if she were crying. Kenji shifted uncomfortably. There was nothing worse than a little girl crying.

"Where are you from?" Kenji asked lightly, trying to distract her from her tears.

"Osaka," she said quietly. Still crying. Fujita finished binding his arm and Kenji flexed it experimentally before crouching in front of the girl and smiling up at her. She looked away from him, a tear rolling off her cheek and splashing cold on his.

"It's all right," he said. "You're safe now.

She shook her head and her knuckles whitened as she clenched her fingers hard.

"I…I should…shouldn't be," she said, hiccupping. Kenji tensed and looked around, trying to peer into the darkness.

"Are there other men after you?"

"N…no…not that I know of but…"

"Do you know where the Bunkyo Ward is?" Fujita interrupted. Kenji blinked up at him and nodded slowly. Fujita hesitated, glanced at him, then took a deep breath and let it out.

"I need you to take her there."

"What about you?" Kenji asked straightening. Fujita had taken out a cigarette but hadn't lighted it yet. Instead he turned it over and over in his fingers as he looked around.

"I'll have to deal with this. I'll meet you there when I'm finished." Finally he looked straight at Kenji. "I need you to take the back roads. No risks, you understand me? There is more than your life at stake."

Kenji nodded. Though he would still need some sort of weapon if someone attacked. He glanced for his shinai and winced as he saw what a wreck it had become. Mama had paid good money for it too and he'd just about destroyed it. She was going to be so upset with him. There was the blade but… Kenji glanced at it apprehensively. If Father even caught him _looking _at a sword, he'd be in for an hour's lecture. But…

"Get going," Fujita said, sounding stern but not annoyed. Kenji nodded, licked his suddenly dry lips and picked up the sword. A chill went through him. The weight…the weight was completely different and the balance too. The blade glinted and shone and a trail of blood curled down it to drip on the road at his feet. He swung it through the air experimentally and almost dropped it as pain flared through his shoulder.

"Stop playing around," Fujita said, annoyed now as he shoved the sheath at Kenji. "Move."

"All right, all right, I'm going," Kenji grumbled, sliding the blade home in the sheath. The metallic sound rang pleasantly against his ears. He wanted to pull it back out again, experiment with it, move into kata. But the girl…the girl was more important. He slipped the sword into the ties of his hakama, the weight obvious and dragging somehow, making him feel both serious and elated. He straightened and held out his hand to the girl.

"You'll be safe with me," he said. She blinked at him a moment, then sniffed and slipped her hand into his. He hadn't quite expected her to do that. A small part of him flared with embarrassment. Of course he'd held hands Inoi and Michiko many times but they were related. It wasn't the same thing. As if sensing this, the girl began to pull her hand away. Kenji squeezed her hand and started forward, gently pulling her with him. She walked sedately beside him.

He let them into a narrow side street and tensed at the dark alleys that opened up like gaping mouths between the buildings. The girl started to say something but Kenji put a finger to his lips, listening for any sound of movement. There was nothing, not even the faint skittering of a rat in garbage. Still he didn't want to risk it. Too many people could surprise them here. He paused at the end of the narrow road, pushing them both back in the shadows so he could glance down either side of the broader street. The moon was hidden and there was a scent in the air that promised rain. After a while with no movement, Kenji tugged her hand and led her out into the road, keeping close to the buildings. The girl sniffled and Kenji glanced at her. She was shivering, one dirty hand pressed against her face as her shoulders trembled.

"We're safe now," he said quietly. "Don't worry." And it was the truth. He wouldn't let anyone hurt her. No matter what. The girl didn't respond one way or the other. "We'll get you home soon." Or at least Fujita would. The girl shook her head.

"I…I don't d…deserve to go home," she said softly, her voice squeaking as she tried not to cry.

"Everyone deserves to go home," Kenji said, wishing he knew her name. She shook her head hard this time, and Kenji had to breathe in through his mouth because it was suddenly obvious she hadn't bathed in weeks.

"I didn't even try to run away all this time because I was scared," she said, wiping at her eyes with her sleeve. "And…and today they got this little boy…"

"Little boy?" Kenji asked, his heart stopping in his throat. It wasn't… It couldn't be…

"Uh huh and…and he was crying for his mother and I just decided to save him but…but they caught him…and…" She pressed her hand to her face and began crying again.

"This little boy," Kenji said, trying to sound gentle. "What was his name? What did he look like?"

The girl only shook her head until Kenji wanted to shake her. What if it was Shinta? Of course there had to be hundreds of little boys in Tokyo, but what if it was him? Kenji had to go see. Had to make sure.

"Come on, tell me something!" he said. He must have sounded rougher than he'd intended because she flinched.

"I don't know," she said. "He's…he's there…" She tugged her hand from his and pointed to a dark alleyway just across the street. Kenji peered hard into the darkness but saw nothing. He started toward the alley, only to be stopped when the girl wrapped her hands around his arm.

"No. Don't…don't go there."

"I need to. Wait here. I'll be back."

"I don't want to be alone!"

"Then come with me," he said. Even in the dim light he could see how pale her face was. It was too important to just leave the boy a mystery though. Kenji sighed and glanced down at her. "Look," he said. "I'm not going to let anything hurt you, okay? I protected you before, didn't I? And I'll do it again."

She hesitated, then nodded, but didn't relax her grip on his arm. Kenji had to pry her away just a little so he could move freely and guided them both to the alleyway. He stopped before he got there, his knees going weak. If she wasn't clinging to one side and the sword hanging heavy from the other, he was sure he would have fallen down. The smell of blood was thick in the air, twinging in Kenji's senses. Lying in a pool of it was a little boy, too young to be Shinta, too young to be so far away from his mother, his head smashed open like an egg. He dimly felt the girl press her face against his shoulder and he knew he should comfort her but he couldn't look away. The boy was lying facedown, his hand stretched out, curled to the side, as if he was only asleep. But his eyes were wide and staring.

Voices floated from down the street. Kenji put a hand to his sword, faint surprise flaring through him as he touched the unfamiliar hilt of the sword rather than the shinai. He couldn't see anyone yet and right now he wasn't sure if he wanted to. No risks, Fujita had said. Besides, if Kenji had to use this sword… If he was forced to use it… A sickening shiver went through him.

"We should go," he murmured to the girl, glancing apprehensively down the street.

"We…we can't just leave him."

"Miss," he said, for lack of anything else to call her. "There's nothing else anyone can do for him. I'm sure that he would want you to get home safely, even if he couldn't. Make up to your mother what his mother has lost." It didn't make an incredible amount of sense to him, but it sounded like something Father would say. The girl nodded but still Kenji had to pull himself from her grip so that he could grab her hand. Her fingers laced tightly through his, her grip crushing. Kenji did his best to ignore it and ran lightly, keeping close to the shadows. The girl followed him as best she could, but she wasn't as fast and needed to rest more often. Despite it being a slower pace than Kenji would have liked, they managed to get far from the voices and much closer to the Bunkyo Ward, when it started to rain.

The drops fell fat and slow at first, splashing against Kenji's cheek, his shoulder, sliding in cold trails down his chest. Thunder grumbled high above and the rain came thinner, faster, stinging his skin like needles. Lightning flashed and the girl squeezed his hand so hard he thought his bones would break. Kenji kept on, reaching one hand up to brush his sopping bangs from his eyes. He tried not to think of the child still sprawled in the alley, his blood mixing with the rain, churning it all into mud, eyes wide and glassy, longing for someone to take him home. That could be Michiko there, or Shinta or Inoi. Kenji bit the inside of his cheek, trying not to imagine their faces in place of the child's, head smashed, hand reaching…

Thunder cracked right overhead, making Kenji jump. The girl shrieked, her voice drowned by the pounding rain. The girl was tugging at his hand, a silent plea to get out of this storm. But there was nowhere to go. He didn't know anyone that lived nearby. When the rain became mixed with sharp cutting bits of hail, Kenji knew they would have to find shelter somewhere. They ended up pressed against the wall under an overhanging roof. The girl clung to him again, shaking from tears or cold, Kenji couldn't tell which. He let her hold on to him, wishing he knew something to say. The storm seemed to have drowned out his words too. All he could do was stare at the small patch of dark sky he could see, watching the lightning flicker through the clouds.

The twins were probably clinging to Father right now, as they usually did during a thunderstorm. Kenji suddenly wished he was at home, sitting on the engawa and watching the rain come down, puddling in the courtyard. Mama would probably be sitting with him, even though she shouldn't because it was so damp. He wondered if she was okay. He'd made her cry. Kenji winced, looking down into the street. That was twice in as many number of days that he'd upset her. And she was going to be even more upset now that the shinai that she'd just bought him was destroyed. Not to mention he hadn't been home since the afternoon. He wished she wouldn't worry about him so much. He could take care of himself. This wasn't the first time he'd been out so late and it probably wouldn't be the last. He was almost a man now, and just as strong as one. Twice as strong as one. And with a real sword… Kenji stroked his fingertips along the wooden hilt. Of course, he couldn't keep it. Father wouldn't allow it. But there were other things to consider too, more important than swords.

"Those people that were after you," Kenji said in a low voice. "Who are they? Where are they now? How many children have they kidnapped?" And done worse things to. They needed to be stopped...taken down. Fujita was involved in it, he was sure. And he would be involved in it himself. He wouldn't let Fujita tell him no.

"I don't know who they are," the girl said in a soft voice, hoarse from crying. "They never tell us anything." She clenched her fingers in his gi. "There are twenty of us, I think. It keeps changing." Her voice grew softer still. "I can take you there if you want."

Kenji glanced down at her. That was a brave thing to want to go back to a place like that, especially since it took so much just to run away. Half of him wanted to take her up on it. But it was too soon and he didn't even know what he was walking into.

"We'll see," he said. "Let's get you somewhere safe first." The worst of the storm had faded and the rain had gentled to a fine mist. Kenji was more relaxed as they started out again, but still kept an ear open, just in case. After a while of walking, the rain tapered to a stop. By the time they got to the Bunkyo Ward, the stars had appeared again and the moon hung low and distant, the bottom half cut off by the black roofs of buildings.

Kenji didn't know much about the Bunkyo Ward. He'd only come here once or twice. All he knew was that this was the traditional samurai district and he'd always felt a little intimidated by it. Even the houses seemed to watch them with solemn disapproval as they quietly made their way through the streets. He glanced around for Fujita. The older boy didn't seem to be here yet. Wandering around would only draw attention. Kenji guided the girl to a few trees clustered by the side of the road. She squirmed her hand out of his and sat down at the base of the tree, wrapping her arms around her legs. Kenji leaned against the solid trunk, folding his arms. It wasn't very pleasant under here. The mud squished under his sandals and occasionally drops would splash down on them from the leaves above, but at least it hid them from sight.

Time passed slowly. Or maybe it didn't pass at all. The night, which had gone by so quickly, now seemed to stretch into forever. Kenji focused on the moon, squinting as he watched it ease behind the houses. Where was Fujita? He should be done with whatever he had to do by now. Kenji shifted his weight. The sword thumped against his thigh and he looked down at it. He wanted to pull it out, hear the chime of metal. Maybe even try it from a battoujutsu stance. If he used a real sword, maybe he could understand it better. It was a tempting thought…but a childish one. It would be bad to draw attention to them, especially since they'd just expended so much effort trying to keep it away. He sighed inwardly. This was probably the only time in his life he'd ever get to hold a real sword and he couldn't even work with it.

Finally, after what seemed like forever, there came the rhythmic tapping of feet against the road. Kenji didn't even bother to double check who it was. The pace was too steady to be someone searching for runaway children, and normal people tended to move quicker in the later hours of the night. Kenji tapped the girl on the shoulder, before stepping away from the tree and looking for Fujita. The older boy appeared from the way they had come, face pale in the moonlight. He glanced up at Kenji and then his eyes slid past him to the girl.

"I'm glad you listened to advice for once," Fujita said, stopping a few feet from them to pry open his cigarette case. There were only three left, Kenji noted with a frown. There had been eight earlier.

"What did you have to do?" Kenji asked, watching Fujita try to light the cigarette. His hands were trembling slightly and it took him two matches before he could do it.

"Procedure," he said with a grimace. "A lot of fast talking. I won't bore you with the details." He took a long draw off the cigarette, closing his eyes like it was the greatest thing in the world. Then he opened his eyes and blew out a long stream of smoke. Then abruptly, he held the cigarette between his lips and shrugged out of his police jacket. It was dry even though Fujita's hair was wet. Kenji was mildly annoyed that Fujita had taken the time to change. The annoyance melted though when Fujita moved past him and draped the jacket over the girl's shoulders. She looked up at him with wide eyes.

"Are you warm enough?" he asked in a gentler voice than Kenji had ever heard from him. The girl nodded and hugged the jacket close around herself. Fujita nodded and glanced at Kenji. "Come with me. But leave that thing behind." He gestured to the sword.

Kenji slid the weapon from his hakama and looked at it. He might as well leave it behind. It wasn't as if he could bring it home with him. But…

"It's nothing you want to keep," Fujita said quietly. "Think of the man who used it and all the things he might have done."

Kenji thought of the boy again. The little skull cracked and broken, the hand reaching for his mother that he would never see again. Kenji drew the sword once more, holding it up in what was left of the moonlight. There wasn't a scratch on the blade. You didn't need to fight if all you were going to do was murder children. His hand shook as anger knotted through him. How many had been killed by this blade? That bastard's sword? How many mothers were _crying _because they would never see their little ones again?

"Someone like that deserves to be gutted by their own sword," Kenji said, sheathing the weapon once more. But he didn't put it down. Couldn't put it down. The weight felt good in his hands. So much better than a shinai. Fujita's hand appeared on the sword too.

"Whatever the man deserves, it's not up to you to mete it out," Fujita said calmly, but there was a hint of something else in his voice. Something Kenji couldn't guess at. Fujita tugged at the sword and Kenji grabbed it back, twisting it out of his hand.

"Himura…" Fujita said, sounding frustrated. Kenji glared at him. Then sighed heavily, half in disgust and tossed the sword away, feeling a small sense of accomplishment as it cracked against the tree. What was he really going to do with it anyway? Go out and kill the guy? Father would really love that. All Kenji would be doing was proving him right.

"Come on," Fujita said. "Mother will look at your shoulder and I'll see if Oharu-obaasan will make us something to eat." He put a hand on his stomach and grimaced. "That soba was terrible."

"Mm," Kenji said, walking beside his friend as they started again. The thought of the sword kept coming to him, and in his mind's eye, he could see it lying on the grass. It was a killer's sword, and a fairly blunt one at that. He twitched his hand into a fist. So why did he want to pick it up again? Trying to distract himself, Kenji looked at the little girl. She was walking close to Fujita, clutching the jacket around herself and looking up at him with wide eyes. It was as if Fujita had protected her all that way. Holding her hand even. Kenji found he couldn't be very annoyed with her. Fujita looked safer. He was older too and young kids always seemed to trust the adults more.

"What's your name?" he asked her. She blinked at him as if just realizing he was there.

"Koji Fuyuko," she said quietly. She hesitated a moment, twisting her fingers on the edges of the jacket.

"Is there something wrong?" Kenji asked when she didn't speak.

"What about Totsu?"  
"Totsu?"

"In…in the alley…."

Oh. It seemed that much more terrible now that the boy had a name. Was someone looking for him right now? Kenji wondered. Was his mother calling his name, wishing her baby would come back home?

"Want to fill me in?" Fujita asked.

"They killed a little boy in the alley," Kenji said, surprised by the flatness of his own voice. "He was trying to run away." Fujita winced.

"How old?"

"Four…maybe five."

"Damnit," Fujita said in a harsh whisper. Kenji nodded. It was hard to think about. Harder still to keep it from his mind. It wasn't fair that anyone should die so young. Especially like that. They went the rest of the way in heavy silence.

It wasn't a long walk, but by the time Fujita slowed beside a gate door, Kenji's shoulder was stinging and his whole body ached. The girl….Koji-chan…was shivering, but he wasn't sure if that was entirely from cold. Fujita stopped as he reached the gate. He dropped his cigarette and ground it out before picking it back up, flicking off the worst of the mud and shoving it in his pocket. Then he took a deep breath and pushed open the door. Fujita gestured for Koji-chan to go in first and then went after her, holding the door open for Kenji to follow.

Kenji's eyes widened as he stepped into the courtyard. Wow. The Saitou's had an impressive house! They must be really rich. There was a movement from the engawa and Kenji peered around Fujita curiously as a woman approached them, holding a glowing lantern. She was beautiful in an old sort of way, not half as pretty as mama of course, but there was a dignity about her.

She lifted the lantern and looked at the girl. A small welcoming smile lifted the corners of her mouth but didn't loosen the corners of her eyes.

"You're safe here," the woman said in a soothing voice. "We'll get you home in no time. Don't worry." She lifted the lantern a little higher and tilted her head a little.

"Are there two of them this time, Tsutomu?" she asked.

"No," Kenji said, stepping out of Fujita's shadow. He was about to say more but the smile had dropped from her face completely. She glanced at him a long hard moment before turning her eyes to Fujita.

"I had to bring him mother. He was wounded because of me."

"I thought you had discussed not to get him involved at all," she said, but she didn't sound annoyed. Kenji looked between the two of them, a little annoyed at being talked about as if he wasn't there.

"I didn't do it purposefully, Mother. Things just…happened." He shrugged helplessly. She gave him another long stare, then sighed long and deep, closing her eyes.

"Very well." Then she looked at him and Kenji forced himself not to step back. Her gaze was piercing, as if she was trying to see right inside him. She was a Saitou all right. There was no doubt about it. "I must ask you, Himura-san, to never reveal the location of this house to anyone. Least of all your father."

Kenji blinked. He didn't see why it would matter if Father knew where the Satious lived or not. Even if he wanted to tell Father, he probably couldn't. All the houses looked the same in the dark. Still he bowed and agreed. The woman gave him one last glance, then smiled again and put a gentle hand on the Koji-chan's shoulder.

"Let's get you warmed and fed."

"Thank you, ma'am," the girl said. Kenji watched Fujita's mother lead the girl away.

"What was all that about?" he asked in a low voice. Fujita grunted and started to lead him toward the house.

"Father being paranoid. Can't let the bakamatsu die even for a second."

Kenji nodded. He knew all about that.

"Sit there," Fujita said, pointing to the engawa. "Father will murder me if he finds out I let you in the house. I'll be back."

Kenji sat on the engawa, dangling his feet and resting his head on the support pole. He was tired and cold and his shoulder ached with every little movement. It seemed like ages since he'd been home. He should go home soon too, he thought, glancing at the sky. It was hard to tell what time it was, but Kenji had the feeling it was pretty late. Father would probably be looking for him again. That was the second night in a row. He wished they wouldn't worry so much. He could take care of himself. Didn't they know how strong he was?

After a while the engawa shook as Fujita came back. Kenji looked up at him and saw he had two bowls in one hand and bandages in the other. An old woman was behind him, carrying a lantern and a bucket of water. The woman set the bucket down but stayed, holding the lantern over them.

"Let me see it," Fujita said, sitting beside him. Kenji blinked, then realized he must be talking about the wound and pulled his arm from his gi, hissing under his breath as pain flared up his shoulder. He held his breath as Fujita unwound the dirty yellow cloth from the cut, wincing as the older boy had to pull it away from his skin.

"It's not too deep," Fujita said, prodding at it with long fingers until Kenji wanted to hit him. "But you should keep an eye on it. If it gets infected, you might lose your arm."

"From a simple cut?" Kenji said, raising his eyebrows. "Yeah right."

"I'm serious, Himura. Ask any doctor you want." He dabbed cold water on the wound and Kenji had to bite his tongue so he wouldn't sound like a child. Finally he bound it tightly with the bandage.

"You should probably still get that woman doctor of yours to look at it." Fujita said as he tied the bandage off.

"Mm," Kenji said, pulling his gi back up. He could and if she recognized a sword wound, he was done for. He would never be let out of the house again.

"Thank you, obasan," Fujita said to the old woman. "You can leave the lantern here if you don't need it."

She bowed and set the lantern beside him. She put a gnarled hand on Fujita's shoulder and after advising him to sleep soon, shuffled off. Kenji watched her until she'd melted into the darkness. When he looked back at Fujita, the boy was holding out a bowl to him, chopsticks resting across it. Kenji took it with muttered thanks. He took a bite and though he wasn't sure exactly what he was eating, it was good and warm and settled well in his stomach. Fujita wasn't eating though. Instead he'd taken a small black book from one of his pockets and was flipping through it. Kenji leaned a little closer, wondering what he was frowning so fiercely about. Fujita didn't edge the book away as expected, but handed it to him. Kenji blinked and set the bowl aside so he could look through it himself.

December

Kyo 11

Hiroshi 9

Mura 8

Jiro 4

"The kidnapped children," Kenji said, feeling his heart twist as the names and ages continued down the page. There were so many…

"Maybe. A child disappears in Tokyo everyday. If they're not high profile cases, it's impossible to tell who was kidnapped and who just got lost." Fujita's voice was heavy. Frustrated. He reached over and flipped a few pages. "Some of them were found," he said, indicating a few names. "Some were found dead. I don't know if we were too late or they just simply fell prey to the city."

Kenji shivered. It was strange wording but he knew it was true. Tokyo was a beautiful city, but dangerous if you didn't know what you were doing, where you were going. Sometimes even stepping into the wrong street at the wrong time was enough to get you killed. He'd never thought that children disappeared though. Children were supposed to be safe at home.

"We wouldn't even know about the kidnappers if it weren't for Mato." Fujita sighed, resting back on his hands and staring into the darkness of the courtyard. "Father found him at the edge of the city, crawling through the snow." Fujita's eyes narrowed and his hands clenched. "It wasn't the first time he'd tried to escape and they'd shattered his legs to prevent it, but still he crawled. His face— It was torture for him to talk, but still he told us so much before he died."

"How old was he?" Kenji asked, dreading the answer.

"Ten."

Even though Kenji was expecting a young age, the word cut him like a knife to the gut. Ten. Ten years old. Kazuo's age. No one to look after him. No one to care for him. Just a last desperate attempt to get away. Kenji looked at the names. There were so many, some as young as Michiko. He turned the page only to see more…and more… All these children….

An idea struck him and he sat straighter, looking at his friend with wide eyes.

"That girl, Koji-chan! She knows where it is! Maybe we could--"

"They'll know she's gone," Fujita said. "They'll know we can come close. Don't you think it's been attempted before? But the last two times we've tried they've made an example and I'm not going to do it again, not without Father."

"An example?"

"Mato was the first but not the last." Fujita closed his eyes, his voice distant. "I don't want to see that again. I don't want that to be because of me."

"But…but we can't just _sit _here!" Kenji wanted to go out and find them. And when he did…when he did… Well…he could get a blade…

"_You _will do nothing," Fujita said, sitting up suddenly and glaring at him. "You will keep your ear to the ground but otherwise stay out of it."

"Oh come on!" Kenji said, clenching his hands into fists. Fujita couldn't just shove him out like this! Not after all that had happened already! Kenji wanted to _do _something. Anything. Finally a chance to do something that mattered. Not just beating up stupid punks but something _real. _

"_Think_ about it a minute, you moron," Fujita snapped. "Every gang in Tokyo knows who you are and more than half would be happy to see you skinned alive by them. And even if you avoided that, how long do you think it would take them to figure out who your father is? Do you have any idea what a disaster it would be if they were able to manipulate your father? If they had the former battousai on their side--"

"My father would never work for those kinds of people," Kenji said, blood roaring in his ears, barely feeling the pain as his fingernails cut into his palms. How dare Fujita say something like that! He really didn't know anything, did he?

"Yes, but if they captured you and held you, he would have no choice but to—"

"_Never!" _Kenji snarled. He was on his feet, glaring down at Fujita, trembling with the anger that roared in him. "And if you _ever _say anything like that again I'll break your face!"

Fujita rose too, fast and dangerous. Kenji stood his ground and glared up at the older boy, hating the fact that he had to crane his neck to do so. Fujita glared at him, eyes narrowed and cold. He was going to swing at him or he wasn't it was as simple as that. But if he did, Kenji was going to sink a fist into his stomach again and again until Fujita couldn't breathe.

"Think what you want, then," Fujita said finally, voice cold. "But stay out of it. If you even lift one finger to get involved I will throw you in a cell and throw the key out the window, do you understand me?"

Kenji raised his fist. He wanted to hit him. He ached so bad to hit him. Just to smash a fist across his face and make his stupid nose bleed. But that would only result in him getting punched, probably in the gut. He forced himself to turn and walk away. He stomped across the courtyard and nearly slammed the gate open. But this wasn't his house and in the back of his mind he knew he would have to face Saitou if he damaged the door. The anger stayed with him though as he made his way through the Bunkyo Ward and to the streets beyond, coiling and snapping at his insides.

He wasn't even sure what he was angry at anymore. But he wanted to hurt someone. He wanted to take his shinai and fight. A frustrated scream rose in his throat, tangling to get out. He stopped and punched a nearby wall instead and then again until the skin of his knuckles split and he could feel the warm itch of blood on his fingers. Instead of fading, the anger sunk, resting in the pit of his stomach, making him feel sick. His arm hurt and now his knuckles hurt too. His clothes were wet and cold, clinging to his skin and he knew…he knew that he was going to be in trouble when he got home. Except that it would be more than just trouble. Because…because of what he said. Of what he did. And now he didn't even have his shinai anymore. The new one that Mama just bought him.

Kenji pressed his hand flat against the wall before resting his forehead on the cool surface. Part of him just wanted to stay here. The night was quiet again, peaceful. The moon had sunk and there were just the stars, dim and faded as if they were tired too. A stream was rushing somewhere distantly and from it, he guessed, a frog croaked. Kenji sighed heavily and started back home at a slow pace, the road long and dim. Mama was going to kill him. Yahiko-ji and Megumi-basan were going to be furious with him. And Father…Father would just smile in that distant sort of way as if, in the end, it didn't really matter.

He wasn't sure how long he'd walked or how late it was, but after a while Kenji found himself slowing in front of an alley. There was nothing to distinguish it from the rest, just a dark smudge between two narrow walls. But Kenji knew where he was and what was inside it. He closed his eyes, counted to ten, and peered around the corner. The boy was still lying there. Wet now, mud nudged around his still form as it had flowed around him. He was still reaching. Still longing. Kenji knelt beside him, gingerly touched his dark hair where it wasn't splattered with blood and bits of skull. Then, sitting back on his heels, and flinching at the pain in his arm, he took off his gi and wrapped the boy up on it, tucking his small arms close to his chest.

"There now," he said softly. "You're warm and there's nothing that can hurt you." But the boy wouldn't stop staring at him with that sad haunted look, so Kenji reached out and gently closed his eyes.

Then he stood and walked away, shivering and wiping his hands on his hakama. Some water must have dripped off the eaves onto him when he wasn't paying attention, because as he walked, his cheeks were wet.


	8. This Game Makes my Heart Ache

Kenshin was close to her, touching her cheek, other arm wrapped snugly around her, as a curtain of white and pink petals fell around them, covering everything in a soft scented snow. The wind teased his red hair, pushing a few strands over his smooth cheeks. Smooth cheeks… Her heart beat faster as she only just noticed. It…it couldn't be.

"Kenshin," she whispered in wonder. His smile widened, violet eyes lit from within as he took her hand and lifted it to his left cheek. There was nothing under her fingertips but warmed skin. Not even the faint ridges she could still sometimes feel.  
"Taidama, my Kaoru," he said, in his warm gentle voice that made warmth flit through her body on butterfly wings. "I'm home."  
He moved his face to kiss her hand, his lips warm, his breath warmer. Then his arms were around her, strong, holding her, keeping her. She could taste his lips; feel the rapid beating of his heart as if it were her own. The pink and white turned red and yellow but she hardly noticed as his mouth moved to her neck. The sudden warmth of his tongue made her gasp and cling to him all the more tightly. Then there was a bed underneath her, a real western bed with silk sheets that slipped against her skin.

A cold drop of water on her nose. Her cheek. The crown of her head sending a cold shock through her and making her shiver as it trailed through her hair. A dull red glow behind her eyes and the dream faded to whisps of nothing. _Damn_. She brushed the dampness away irritably, and opened her eyes to their sun brightened room, blinking a little to get her eyes adjusted. Another drop landed freezing cold, square in the middle of her forehead. Kaoru's gaze flicked up and the irritation only increased as she saw the dark wet spot on the ceiling above her. Damn and damn. The baby kicked at her painfully, seeming just as annoyed as she was and she rubbed her belly soothingly as she struggled to sit up. She put a hand on the futon to brace herself and shifted into a more comfortable position and out of the line of wet.

The blanket under her hand was cool and she frowned down at it. It was still turned down, the pillow undented. Kenshin hadn't come home yet. The reality sunk in, making her feel heavy. He was still out, looking for Kenji. Kenji! Her heart which seemed to have sunk low in sadness sprang up again and beat wildly against her throat. Kenji. If Kenshin wasn't home that meant he hadn't found Kenji yet. That Kenji was lost or worse somewhere out there. But maybe, maybe he'd made it home before Kenshin! Or maybe Kenshin was on his way already!

Kaoru got to her feet and left the room, putting a hand over her belly and forcing herself not to run. She slid open the door to Kenji's room. The futon was unrolled, the covers kicked about every which way. A well worn yakuta had been dropped carelessly, half tangled in the blankets. Kaoru put a hand over her heart, leaning on the doorway. Relief flooded her and made her warm and almost lightheaded. Kenji was back. Her baby was alive and safe. Still she wanted to see him. Just to make doubly sure. She took a moment to get herself back together and then straightened and slid the door shut. Before looking further for her oldest, she stopped by the twins' door and peeked in. They were sleeping close, curled around each other like two chipmunks in a nest as Kenshin had put it. She watched the rise and fall of their chests, gazed at the peaceful expression on Shinta's face. Inoi's back was too the door, her face tucked against her brother's shoulder, but Kaoru knew her expression would be the same. Oh, they were both so cute! She just wanted to wrap her arms around them and squeeze them close and never let go. Her babies. Her darlings. Hers and Kenshin's.

After a few moments, she stepped away from the door and continued down the hall, absently running her fingers through the tangles in her hair. The kitchen had been prepared for breakfast and a bucket of water sat by the door. More evidence of Kenji's presence. She stepped out onto the engawa and for no reason whatsoever, the wall caught her eye. Kenji had jumped from that wall, jumping high in the air and coming down in a rough version of the ryu tsui sen. She couldn't remember what she'd felt when she'd seen him do it, only the vague surprise that he didn't really look like Kenshin at all in that moment. And afterwards….that horrible fight.

Kaoru closed her eyes and shook her head, trying not to remember what was said, the way their voices had sounded. She wasn't sure what to think. Kenji had been so happy when he realized he'd done it. He'd probably worked really hard on it. And then…to be discouraged down like that by the one person he wanted most to impress. But Kenshin did have a point. It was a dangerous technique to try and learn. She knew that Kenshin was right, that Kenji should stay away from it. She knew that it would cause him nothing but trouble. Kenji was a good boy and he could be very kind and gentle, but he was impatient and restless. He wouldn't be content just to practice the moves and not use them somehow. But what could she say? What could she do?

The thoughts continued to plague her as she walked toward the dojo where she knew her son would be. He came out before she could reach the doors, a cleaning bucket in his hand. He looked at her surprised and she smiled at him. He had his sleeves tied back and his hair tied at the back of his neck and for a moment looked just like his father. His face fell, shoulders slumping and suddenly he was a little boy again.

"I'm sorry, Mama," he muttered. Kaoru's own smile faded as worry settled in her once more. She hated to see him like this. She wanted to hold him and tell him it would all be all right. Except that wouldn't solve anything, would it?

"Kenji, you have to stop running off like that. Especially at night. It's dangerous."

"I can take care of myself," he said, not looking up. Kaoru expected that answer but it didn't stop the annoyance from knotting in her throat.

"Well it makes me worry. It makes your father worry. There's enough worry around without worrying about you getting yourself killed in some dark alley."

"I won't be killed," Kenji said, finally grinning as he looked up at her. She narrowed her eyes and gave him a look. "I won't be!" he said defensively. "I'm better than any of those punks."

"I don't care who you think you're better than," Kaoru said, putting her hands on her hips. "You're to be inside that gate before nightfall, you understand me?"

"What?" his face flashed with anger. "Mama, I'm thirteen! I'm not a baby." He was practically glaring at her. She hated that look. He was testing her, seeing how far she would bend.

"Too bad," Kaoru said, glaring right back. "That's the rule. Now go and straighten up your room. It's a mess in there." Kaoru jabbed her finger in the direction for emphasis.

"But it isn't fair!" he snapped.

"Now," she said, not even bothering to counter that. She wasn't going to get into an argument this morning. She was tired of arguments and fights. Kenji was going to do what he was told and she wasn't about to fight more than she had to get him to do it. If her father was alive, there would be no argument at all! Kenji scowled and stalked past her, his shoulders squared in anger.

"And when you're done with that you can warm up a bath for your father."

"Why?" he said over his shoulder. He had said it to annoy her. She knew he had. And she let herself be annoyed because there was no use hiding it. But she wasn't going to fight. No. And she wasn't going to give him a chance to get a good comeback either.

"Because I said so."

How often had she heard those words from other mothers in the street? Back when she was pregnant with Kenji…well even up until the twins were toddlers, she'd always thought that those words were empty and pointless. A mother should explain to their children, she'd thought. As her mother had with her. But she'd learned quickly that explaining wouldn't do any good to someone who wouldn't listen. Even though it hadn't really been a fight, she still had the heavy feeling of winning that round and the even heavier feeling of dreading the next one. He didn't used to be like this. He used to be sweet and smiling. But…a child couldn't stay a child forever. He was struggling everyday, to find out who he was, to find out his place in the world, wanting to test the threads that still tied him close to home. She had seen that with Yahiko and at the time didn't understand. Oh, she'd realized he was growing up, but it hurt that he'd decided to go somewhere else, to live his own life. It would hurt with Kenji too. But he wouldn't leave as young as Yahiko had. No… No he was her son. This was his home. He was born here. They both loved him so much. He wouldn't leave so early. He might like to prowl the city at night but he always came home in the end. Kaoru slapped her fist lightly in her palm. And that prowling was going to stop if she had anything to say about it. He had plenty of time to prowl about in the daytime!

Kaoru nodded to herself, feeling a little better to have a goal in mind. She wondered for a moment what had come to do out here on the engawa, then remembered that she'd come to find Kenji and, that done, she went back to her room to get presentable for the day. The twins woke up when she was combing her hair, pounding through the house like rumbling thunder. Kaoru smiled. If she ever ran through the house like that, her father would glare her right into a corner. But her children could scream the walls down if they wanted to. The pounding stopped at her door and Kaoru watched, heart lifting, as the door slid slowly open and two anxious faces peered in.

"Good morning!" she said cheerfully. The door was flung open and the twins burst at her running, Shinta tripping over his feet a few times before crashing headlong into Inoi's back and sending them both onto the futon. Kaoru laughed, she couldn't help it. Inoi gave her an annoyed look, wrinkling her nose on one side. Then the girl tossed her head and a lock of messy auburn hairfell across her face covering one eye. Kaoru had to put a hand over her face to stifle the giggles she just couldn't stop.

"Oh, I'm sorry, Inoi!" Shinta said, scrambling to move off his sister. Inoi twisted around with the grace of a small tiger and attacked, tickling her brother's sensitive ribs. Shinta fell to the bed, squealing with laughter. Kaoru couldn't resist the opportunity and joined in the fun, kneeling beside Inoi and tickling until all three were breathless. Kaoru sat back on her legs, waving her hand in front of her heated face.

"How can you two be so _awake_this early in the morning?" she said with a smile.

"Because we're little," Inoi said, stretching her arms over her head and yawning. "You have to run around when the sun comes up."

"Because there's not enough time when it goes down," Shinta said, with a nod. Inoi grinned at him and he grinned back as if they had just told some secret joke. Then the moment was broken and Inoi looked at her.

"Comb my hair, Mama. Is Papa making breakfast? Can I wear the moon comb today?"

"My hair, too, Mama!" Shinta said excitedly. "But I don't need a comb in my hair."

"Oh!" Inoi clapped her hands together. "And I'll wear the green yukata today! With the leaves and an orange bow."

"We washed that one yesterday," Shinta said. "And we didn't take any clothes off the line last night so it's probably still wet."

"You can wear the blue one with the koi," Kaoru said, taking the opportunity of Inoi's pout to slip a word in edgewise. They'd run her right over if she didn't. "And you can wear the moon comb or the orange bow but I don't think you should wear both."

Inoi tapped her chin thoughtfully with her forefinger. It was an unfamiliar gesture but one her little girl had been doing more often lately. Kaoru wondered where she could have picked it up. After a while the little girl nodded.

"The bow. I'll wear the comb on a special day."

"And I'll get the kimono for you!" Shinta said, bounding to his feet and launching away, stumbling a little at the door. Poor thing. He didn't have any grace at all. Maybe a few years of kendo would train it into him but he didn't seem to have much desire for it right now. Well he was only six. Children changed all the time, didn't they? Who knew what could happen. She began to run the comb through Inoi's hair. It was such a pretty red color. A lot darker than Kenshin's but sometimes in the right light the color came out deep and rich. Kaoru frowned. Kenshin… Was he back yet? Was he still out searching and worrying? She wished she knew of a way to bring him home. If he wasn't home yet, he would be by the afternoon, right? He wouldn't be out looking for that long before he came home. But he would be so very tired. He seemed tired a lot lately, though he tried to hide it.

"Mama where's Papa?" Inoi's clear voice broke into her thoughts. Kaoru looked at the little girl who was looking back at her in the small silvery mirror in front of them. Her face was serious in the way only children seemed to posses and her small mouth was turned down. It was as if she already knew but was waiting for what Kaoru was going to tell her. Kaoru hesitated a moment, trying to decide what to tell her and Inoi's face hardened, knowing the truth. Her little hands fisted in her lap.

"Inoi…" Kaoru started, wanting to soothe her daughter but not entirely sure how.

"It's not fair, Mama. Papa shouldn't have to go looking for Kenji all the time. He gets tired and it makes him sad."

"That's not something you should worry about," Kaoru said gently but firmly. "That's between us and Kenji. You just need to concentrate on your kanji." Kaoru tapped the girl lightly on the tip of her nose. "Yoshida sensei says you've been falling behind in class."

"Kanji is so hard," Inoi said, making a face. "There's too much to remember. Shinta can do it so much better." Inoi turned and flicked back her hair with a wave of her hand. "Besides, ladies don't need to know kanji."

"Is that so?" Kaoru said, but didn't correct her. Inoi really did try hard, Kaoru knew. The little girl threw herself into absolutely everything she did. All of their children were so full of life and determination. She couldn't help but envy that a little. She had strength and determination too, but sometimes she had to force that to the surface, to look past all the glaringly obvious facts and just focus on the hope. Her children believed without effort. They knew they could take on the world no matter what happened. She hoped that never changed.

Kaoru finished brushing Inoi's hair and picked a long elegant green ribbon. Inoi had said she'd wanted orange, but once she saw how much better she looked with the green she would leave it in. With a smile, Kaoru threaded the ribbon into her daughter's hair, pulling it in a soft bow, then sat back to admire her work. There was the sound of the door sliding open and Kaoru looked up, Kenshin's name rising in her throat. Shinta stood there alone, holding the yukata and grinning proudly.

"There's not an extra crease on it!" he said, stepping carefully into the room as if he was carrying fine porcelain. He knelt on the rumpled futon and laid out the yukata on the mat, straightening it out here and there. Well he'd certainly inherited his father's love of laundry. And just where was Kenshin? There was the distant sound of a door closing and both children looked up, watching the shoji expectantly. Kaoru found herself doing the same, even though she knew it was probably only Kenji moving in a different part of the house. It should be Kenshin though. He should be home by now. She knew he'd been worried about Kenji and she was too, but that didn't give him an excuse not to check in once in a while!

The door remained closed, there were no soft welcoming footsteps on the engawa, no warm gentle voice saying he was home and was sorry for making them worry. Kaoru absently ran a hand over her belly. What if he'd been pulled into something again? It had been a long time since anyone had asked him for help, but people still knew who he was.

"Mama?" Inoi said.

Kaoru blinked. The twins were looking at her with serious faces. Shinta reached out hesitantly and tugged at the hem of her sleeve. Kaoru realized she was clenching her fist in her yukata. She forced a smile and relaxed her hands, smoothing out the wrinkles then holding out her arm to her son. Shinta moved against her, tucking himself close to her ribs and resting his head on her shoulder. Inoi leaned back, but was deterred by the bulk of the baby and instead moved to Kaoru's other side, wanting a hug of her own. They weren't too worried, Kaoru knew, nothing more than a hug couldn't cure.

"It will be all right," she said, first kissing the top of Inoi's head, then Shinta's. "Your father will be home soon." Kenshin always came home. He wasn't a wanderer anymore; he was barely even a swordsman anymore. He was just Kenshin, her Kenshin, who played with the children and liked to wash clothes.

There was a sudden babble of indistinct male voices from the courtyard. Kaoru looked up, puzzled for a moment, then realized. The students! She hadn't even changed yet, not to mention there was no breakfast! Mou…

"Shinta, run and find Kenji and tell him to start boiling some rice." They could have that much at least. "If he complains tell him that I said so," she gave the boy's shoulders a squeeze. Shinta nodded enthusiastically and scrambled to his feet and out the door, calling Kenji's name before he was even on the engawa.

"Let's get you dressed," Kaoru said to Inoi. Even though the girl could more or less dress herself, she still struggled with tying the simple obi.

"I can't wait to go to class today," Inoi said, standing and letting Kaoru untie her yukata. "We're learning how to write the names of different countries and learning things about them. Like England where they have a tower with a big clock on it where the queens get their heads chopped off." Inoi chattered on. Kaoru listened with half an ear, keeping some of her attention trained on the house. She realized guiltily she was listening for sounds of an argument or of Kenji being mean to Shinta. She knew that Kenji didn't mean it, that sometimes he let his anger get the better of him.

"I don't think the Chinese grow on bamboo stalks," Kaoru said to Inoi's latest comment. She motioned for her daughter to turn so she could slip the obi around the girl's waist and tie it.

"Well that's what Manae-kun said!"

"Manae-kun?" Kaoru asked, deftly tying the cloth. Inoi nodded.

"A boy in class. He's eight and he used to make up a lot of stories but he told me this one was true! He even swore it!" Her small shoulders heaved in a dramatic sigh. "Boys… you just can't trust them sometimes."

"Well if anyone has to swear something, it's probably not true," Kaoru said, giving the tied obi a little pat. "Now I need you to keep an eye on your brothers while I get dressed, okay?"

"Okay!" Inoi said, bobbing her head. Then she walked from the room, where Shinta would have run, her ponytail swishing with her steps. She was going to be a real lady one day. The type of lady that Kaoru had never quite achieved. It wasn't that she didn't want to, but, well, life kept getting in the way. So many more things had become important than being a proper lady.

Kaoru picked up the comb and began to pull it quickly through her hair, wincing as it snagged. Not for the first time did she consider cutting her hair. It was unthinkable, of course. Almost unforgivable! It was bad enough that she didn't have enough time to look as pretty as the other ladies on the street, but with short hair, as much as a time saver as that would be, she might as well be a boy! Besides, she wanted to be a good wife to Kenshin and long hair was part of that. Looking good for him was part of that. Though sometimes she wondered if he noticed…

Of course he did! Kaoru twisted her hair back into a high ponytail and began to tie it back with a red cord. Or at least he'd better! If she ever found out he didn't she would be sure to give him an education and fast. She stood and slipped out of her yukata to pull on her gi and then slipped on a pair of worn hakama. She gathered the ties of the hakama in her hands. After all, it wasn't her fault she didn't look the same as other women. She wasn't just a wife and mother but a kendo master besides, and the one who put food on the table! Kaoru frowned as she knotted her hakama, letting her anger stay on her face rather than in the hands that pulled the ties over her rounded belly. And if Kenshin didn't appreciate that she…she would…just have to show him what was what.

Kaoru nodded to herself and, with a fiery sense of purpose, strode out the door with as little waddling as she could manage. The first thing to do was to check up on Kenji. He wouldn't have been happy being pulled away from the dojo when there were students present and when he wasn't happy, he made sure everyone knew. But so far it had been quiet. Too quiet. It was very suspicious. There were cooking sounds coming from the kitchen. Hmm. She moved a bit closer as stealthily as she could, wanting to catch Kenji if he was doing something bad. Not because she wanted to punish him, but just to let him know that he couldn't get away with it. She moved closer to the wall as she approached the kitchen, keeping her steps slow and silent, then whipped her head around the doorframe and looked in.

"Aaa, good morning, Kaoru," Kenshin said from where he was standing behind the stove. "You came just in time. The rice is just done!"

Kaoru straightened and blinked at her husband. He was smiling at her as if he'd been there all morning. He didn't even look tired! The twins stood on either side of him, peering at her with wide curious eyes.

"Why did you look around all sudden like that, Mama?" Shinta asked. Kaoru felt her face heat at being caught, but decided not to acknowledge it.

"So what time did you get back, Kenshin?" she asked, folding her arms and trying to look stern. And why didn't he come tell her the moment he did?

"Not to long ago," he said, taking the lid off the pot of rice and waving away the ensuing cloud of steam. "But just in time to start breakfast and I thought you'd prefer a nice warm meal first, I did."

"Oh," Kaoru said, the sight of the white rice making her stomach grumble. It smelled so good and she knew it would taste good too. But the way Kenshin had said it…and the way he was looking at her now… Warm but bland and pleasant. She had the feeling that he was keeping something from her. Though what, she couldn't tell. Even after all these years it was impossible to know what he was thinking.

"Well you're right, I am pretty hungry!" Kaoru said, patting her stomach lightly for emphasis. "So hungry that I feel like eating out of the pine tree bowls. Shinta, Inoi, why don't you go get them?" The pine tree bowls were old and expensive and they usually only ate out of them during the summer as a special treat. She cringed inwardly as both children whooped and charged past her toward the shed where the bows were stored. She hoped they were more careful about bringing them back than going to get them.

"Kaoru must be feeling special today," Kenshin said with a smile as he uselessly stirred the rice. He was hedging and they both knew it. Kaoru stared at him, wishing she could pick out the truth from his expression. There was nothing there that told her any certainty, but many things to guess at. Kaoru tried not to let her imagination run away from her. It could mean anything after all.

"Kenshin…" she started, hating to ask him but wanting to know. His smile slipped a bit but he didn't look at her. It was something he really wanted to keep to himself for now. She knew that. She could tell… But she wanted to know if… if…

"It's nothing too horrible, my Kaoru," he said softly. The way he said it warmed her but at the same time made her gut knot a little. "This one is just a little troubled."

"Kenji…" she said, even though she knew without a doubt.

"Aa." He stopped stirring the rice and moved to busy himself with the tea kettle. He wasn't avoiding her really, but it was obvious it wasn't something he wanted to talk about right now. She wished he would. But even if he did, even if he told her everything that was on his mind, would she really be able to help? If there was only someone she could ask for advice. There was no one she really knew who had children Kenji's age though. She found herself staring at the table. Mothers should always be able to fix things. That's what she'd always believed, what people always said. A mother could keep a family together better than anyone. Maybe…maybe she just wasn't a very good one. She looked up, and though she still saw Kenshin's back, she had the feeling he'd been watching her.

"Kenji's just going through one of those things right now," Kaoru said with a cheerfulness she didn't feel. "Like when he was a four and didn't like his food touching." It wasn't anything like that and it seemed silly even to say so. It was all part of the game though. The game they'd been playing ever since she'd met him. He didn't want to worry her and she didn't want to worry him so they smiled and said happy dismissive things. It was a game she both wanted to end and didn't. In any case there didn't really seem to be a way out of it.

"Mm," Kenshin said, turning toward her with the kettle in one hand and three cups in the other. He said nothing more as he set the cups on the table and filled them with the not-quite-cheap brand of English tea which Kaoru for the life of her couldn't stop craving. The small smile on Kenshin's face had lapsed into something that was not quite a frown and his eyes were distant and thoughtful. It had been a while since she'd seen him like that. Had he heard something? Or seen something? Was someone trying to recruit him again? She'd have thought they'd given up by now. Well she would just tell them no again, and as many times as it took.

"I hope you're not thinking of going off somewhere, because it's not going to happen," Kaoru said, taking her tea cup and warming her hands with it. Kenshin blinked at her.

"Oro?"

"Don't you 'oro' me," Kaoru said, wagging a finger at him. "You're not going off again. You're much too old to be playing hero for anyone and I can't do this all by myself." Her last words stung unexpectedly, opening up a chasm inside her that was always there whenever she thought about it. The baby shifted restlessly inside her and she smiled at Kenshin. Bright and _cheerful,_damnit. Kenshin's fingers brushed against her cheek, calluses rough and familiar and nearly bringing the tears to the surface.

"I'm not going anywhere, Kaoru," he said in a warm gentle voice he seemed to reserve just for her. He was smiling for real this time, which was not helping and she could feel her eyes dampen. "I'm not a ruroni anymore. I'm your husband and I'm going to stay where I belong."

"Kenshin…" she whispered. If he made her cry by being sweet she really was going to hit him. Fortunately they were both saved by the arrival of the twins who carried the six…five remaining bowls…both looking a little pale. Kaoru didn't even have to guess.

"I tripped," Shinta said, looking downcast.

"That's all right," Kaoru said. After all, bowls were bowls, no matter how expensive they were. Soon the bowls were set up, the tea was poured and the meal was on the table. Kaoru tried not to think about the empty bowl sitting where Inoi had left it. It sat alone and empty, a reminder of who should be here with them. _He isn't gone,_ she reminded herself forcefully. _He's teaching a class right now and you should be there too! _As a sensei, showing up late was just disrespectful! Kaoru lifted the bowl closer to her face and ate a bit faster. She shouldn't have slept in so late, that was the problem. Just because she was pregnant didn't mean she could slack on the self discipline. Too many people were counting on her for that.

"Aaa, maybe you should slow down a bit," Kenshin said, holding up his hands. "The class is going to last for a while yet. Besides, if you eat like that you'll get a stomach ache, you will."

"And that's icky," Shinta put in. He'd suffered indigestion too, the poor thing, but that was only once after a whole day of sneaking fresh pickles out of a jar when he was expressly told not to. Kaoru was glad he'd learned his lesson, even though she'd felt bad when he had an aching stomach for the rest of the night. Inoi was giving her a long solemn look, as if she understood perfectly and reached out to gently pat Kaoru's hand.

"Don't worry. Kenji-niichan can take care of everything."

Kaoru smiled a little. Inoi had hit the nerve of the problem, just like Kenshin would have. Kenji always seemed to be the nerve of the problem these days. No. That wasn't right. It wasn't him but his attitude.

"I know he can take care of it," Kaoru said, gently squeezing her daughter's hand. "But it's important for a sensei to show that her students mean a lot to her!" It was important for Kenji to know too. She knew he could teach the whole class by himself, but he still needed her there, even if she just stood in a corner to watch. He needed to know she was there just in case he had a problem or just to know she approved. She knew what it was like to turn around and only find empty corners and shadows.

"This one will make sure there's plenty of rice left for later," Kenshin said, knowing she was going to go even though she really shouldn't. One bowl of rice was hardly enough anymore and all ready she wanted more. That could wait though. It was only a little while after all.

"All right," Kaoru said, standing. "You guys have a good day at school. Mou, but I'll guess you'll have to come home for lunch." She usually packed them bentos. It was apparently the popular thing to see what who had for lunch and usually there was some sort of trading frenzy.

"I'll take care of it," Kenshin said. "Maybe I'll show them how to make their own bentos."

"Really, Papa?" asked Inoi, excited. Kenshin nodded. Kaoru smiled even as she frowned inside. Making a bento was a mother's responsibility. Tae-san always said a good housewife knew how to make a good bento. There just wasn't enough time for anything anymore!

"Just make sure to come home with the right box this time," she said, speaking really to Shinta who got excited in the trade and usually forgot. She kissed both her children on the top the head, then reached over and pulled at Kenshin's cheek.

"You come home, too. You've had a long morning and you need your rest," she said, giving his cheek an extra little pinch for emphasis.

"Yes, ma'am," he said as the twins burst into a fit of giggles. That was the best thing about Kenshin, for a husband he was remarkably well trained. Sometimes other women would compliment her on her ability to keep him in line. Kaoru always accepted the compliments, if just to make Kenshin 'oro', but she knew that most of the credit went to Kenshin. He just…didn't seem to mind. Kaoru left the kitchen and padded down the engawa toward the dojo. Now that it was quiet again the worries crept back around her, picking at her. She tried to forget them as she neared the dojo. A sensei was calm, face smooth as if set in stone. Funny how her father's words still came back to her. Even if she didn't always act that way when she taught, it was a lesson she always reminded herself of. The attitude of the class, he'd said, usually revolved around the attitude of the teacher.

As she came to the shoji, she closed her eyes, preparing herself, then slowly slid it open. Whatever had made the students rebellious yesterday seemed to have disappeared today. They were all patiently going through drills, paired off with one another. It was obvious they'd paired off themselves. Kenji usually had a knack for putting people together who had just the right strengths and weaknesses to be a challenge for one another.

Kenji was standing close to where Takashi-san and Nobiro-san were practicing, watching them with a critical eye. A bokken was tucked against his waist and his arms were folded. He was annoyed. Takashi-san missed a step causing Nobiro-san to snicker and Kenji's face tightened, his eyes narrowing, but still he said nothing. She moved into the dojo and he looked up at her and just as quickly looked away as if he was embarrassed about something.

"Oh, there you are, sensei," said Chiba-san standing straight and then backing up to avoid a hit by Yamada-san who obviously didn't expect him to stop. The other students stopped what they were doing and turned to greet her respectfully.

"Good morning everyone!" she said cheerfully. It was nice to see so many eager faces! "I see your drills are going very well!"

"As they should be," said Chiba-san, resting the end of his bokken on the floor. "We've certainly practiced long enough." He said it with good humor, but Kaoru had the feeling that he was ready to move on to something more advanced. Kenji snorted and Kaoru gave him a quick look.

"You haven't practiced near enough," he muttered. She knew he thought they weren't serious, that they would never do anything more than just pretending they knew how to wave a bokken around. It was just that they weren't as dedicated as they should be. A few years ago, it would have frustrated her too, but the time of swordsmanship was slowly fading away and it was good that these men had other things to do with their time than pick up a weapon.

"Well that's what this class is for, right?" she said cheerfully to the others. "I think right now we're going to do a little test to see what we still need to improve on before moving to something more advanced. Why don't you guys line up over there." She gestured to another part of the dojo. Yamada-san looked a little disgruntled at this. Typical teenage stubbornness, Kaoru thought, and wondered if she'd ever been that way. Azuma-san put a hand on his shoulder and muttered something in his ear as they walked away.

"Maybe you'll behave this time, eh, little sensei?" Chiba-san asked, slapping a hand on Kenji's shoulder in a friendly way. The boy_flinched_, his hand curling into such a hard fist that his knuckles went white. Something was wrong. Kaoru stepped toward him, reaching for his shoulder, everything else forgotten. Kenji moved before she could touch it.

"It's just sore, Mama," he said, reaching up to straighten his gi. There was a subtle stiffness to his sore arm and she had the feeling he wasn't telling her everything.

"How could it get sore?" she asked.

"Just because," he said, sounding frustrated. "Can't we talk about it later?" he muttered. All the students were lined up and were watching them intently. Kaoru was sure they could hear every word. She pressed her lips together, caught between wheedling the truth out of her beloved offspring and not embarrassing him in front of the students whose respect he still hadn't won.

"You're going to tell me the whole story later, okay?" she said, in a low tone. Kenji stared at the floor a moment but when he looked up there was that smile. That smile that was so familiar that it made her heart lurch.

"Kenji…" she started.

"There's nothing to tell, Mama. It's just a little sore. So don't worry about it, okay?"

It was cruel, even more so because she knew he did it out of love. He didn't want her to worry. Sometimes she _wanted_to worry, just to know what was going on. She couldn't help if everyone kept everything away from her. Kenji turned and started to walk toward the students. Kaoru's fingers twitched with the urge to drag him back and pull him into her arms. She wanted to hold him close and maybe somehow make him like he used to be. It wouldn't work that way, though, and she knew it. Kaoru put on her sensei face, playing along with the little game for now. But she wouldn't keep playing it, not with Kenji. She would make him tell her every detail. It would be better for both of them that way

* * *

They were running late again, they often were. Somehow there was never enough time in the mornings. There didn't seem to be enough time period. Kenshin was in no mood to hurry, though. He didn't normally, preferring things to take their own time, unless of course it was a drastic situation and being a little late for school was hardly that.

"Inoi, don't run so far ahead," he said for what seemed like the thousandth time. His daughter turned and he nearly lost sight of her in a small crowd of women coming from a restaurant. She was still there when they passed in a fluttering of sleeves and laughter and Kenshin was inwardly relieved.

"Stay close, all right?" he said, holding out a hand to her. She wrinkled her nose at him. It was unusual for him, he knew. Usually he didn't mind her running all over the market, because unlike a certain other child of his, he knew she would come back. Today, though, he didn't want to lose sight of her, even for a moment. Inoi hesitated only a moment before running up to him and taking his hand. He smiled at her, glad that she was so obedient and trying not to think of the day when she would be Kenji's age.

"It's so busy today," Shinta said; clinging close to Kenshin's other side. Kenshin squeezed his hand comfortingly. Shinta didn't like large crowds. Even at the Akabeko he tended to sit near the wall, surrounded by his family. Kenshin wasn't sure why, but today he was glad and too much on edge to feel badly about it. He was at least still enough of a swordsman to hide this from his family, though Kaoru seemed to suspect it, he was sure not even she knew the full extent. He could sense everyone's ki; it seemed, rippling over his nerves that were as taut as the strings of a samisen. He felt cramped, his body wanting to move in a different way, swifter, feet braced further apart to be ready to turn in any direction. He wanted a sword weighing down his side and a rough hilt in his palm. He wanted it like he wanted a stretch, to pull his body back in the form it was supposed to be.

It was the two hours of sleep in as many days that caused this, he knew, and the waking hours full of worry and fear and the anger, of Yahiko at Kenji and Kenji at the world. It was Kaoru's sorrow. It was seeing the ryuu tsui sen, or something alarmingly close to it, performed by his son who wanted to be the best swordsman no matter the cost. It was searching at all hours of the morning and finding a distraught woman with a missing child. It was finding that child_murdered_ in an alleyway, surrounded by police, wrapped in Kenji's gi that was cut at the shoulder. It was the unfairness of the world, the crowds of Tokyo, the sense that danger was looming just on the horizon after they'd had so many years of peace.

There was someone coming up behind them, running, he could feel their approach in the nerves along his spine. The ki was peaceful and so he forced himself to keep looking straight ahead. If he turned to see he felt he might give the person a more forceful look than he intended. Kazuo came into view, making him glad of his decision. The boy was panting, he'd been running hard but there was no fear in his face.

"Good morning, Kazuo," Kenshin said, slipping easily back into the mask of the ruroni. It had been a long time since he'd thought of himself as that. But it was a lot better than going in the opposite direction.

"Good morning, Kazuo-niisan," the twins echoed, almost in one voice.

"Good morning," Kazuo said with a little bow. He straightened and grinned at them. "Running late as usual, huh?"

"Aaa, it seems so," Kenshin said. "I'm surprised to see you are." If Kazuo was anything he was punctual. Usually he arrived early.

"My tutor kept me longer today," Kazuo said, shifting the large tome he carried to the other arm as if emphasizing the fact. "After saving me from being mauled by the dogs," he continued dryly, pushing back his sleeve to reveal a series of thin white scratches. A few days a week Kazuo went to clean the home of a rich woman in exchange for a few hours tutoring from her nephew. Kenshin had never been there, but according to Kazuo the house was absolutely overrun with pugs.

"Did you go by yourself this morning?" Kenshin asked, knowing that Kazuo started out before the sun was up. The boy nodded, adjusting his glasses.

"I usually do," he said.

"Ah." Kenshin debated whether to tell him to be careful. Just because one child had been murdered didn't mean there was any threat against Kazuo. It was far better to be cautious, however, and Tokyo in the early morning could be just as dangerous as at night.

"Maybe you should have Yahiko go with you, that you should."

"It's fine, Kenshin-ojisan. Nothing has ever happened to me."

That didn't mean that nothing would. Rather then explain to Kazuo though, he would talk to Yahiko about it. Kazuo was too young to be burdened with things like that...and so was Kenji. Kenshin's heart fell, a deep familiar sadness tightening in his throat. Did Kenji see the boy fall? Did he see the savage blow that cracked the child's skull and spilled his blood on the ground? Or did he come after there was no hope left? Kenji shouldn't have had to see either. It wasn't fair that he should. He was still so young, so innocent. He'd barely begun to live yet and to see something so terrible…

"Papa, pay attention," Inoi said.

"Oro?" Kenshin blinked, looking around at first to see if he had missed anything. Finding nothing except the expectant stares of the children he looked down at Inoi. She sighed.

"The school is down that way, Papa," she said, pointing to the road he'd walked right past.

"Unless we're taking the long way," Shinta said. "I don't mind but I don't think sensei would like us to be much later."

"Aaa, that's right," Kenshin said, guiding his children to the tree lined road. "I must be getting old."

"Papa, you _are_old," Inoi said with a giggle.

"I don't think Kenji-ojisan is old at all," Kazuo said, though he didn't look at Kenshin as he said it.

"You always say nice things about grownups," said Inoi. "Papa is old but we still love him." She let go of his hand and wrapped both her tiny arms around one of his, resting her head on his shoulder. Kenshin smiled. At the moment, he wouldn't even mind being called ancient. Still, he couldn't quite let her get away with it.

"Aa, I'm old and you're little," he said, to her.

"Hey!" She glared up at him, her lip out in a pout.

"But I still love you."

"You better!" Inoi said, tilting her chin up in a way that was so reminiscent of Kaoru that Kenshin couldn't help but chuckle. Kenshin tried to stay focused on the moment. This road was clear of people and when Inoi tugged impatiently forward to chase after a butterfly, he let her, watching her hair swing. All too soon they reached the school. It was in a beautiful place, surrounded by blossoming trees and a koi pond that he and some of the other parents had helped dig. A group of children were playing in front of the small school house, their laughter carrying clear and bright. Inoi waved and ran toward them. Shinta let go of his hand and chased after her, grinning from ear to ear. Kenshin watched his children go, mingling with the others, seeing the joy on their faces. There was one little boy who would never get the chance to be here.

"Kids," Kazuo said with a heavy sigh, looking up at Kenshin. Kenshin smiled at him and put a hand on his shoulder.

"I know you're intelligent, and you have a strong spirit, that you do." He squeezed the boy's shoulder lightly. "But don't be in such a hurry to grow up."

Kazuo blinked at him and Kenshin had the feeling there was something important hovering just on the edge of the boy's tongue. Whatever he was going to say was cut short as shoji door of the school opened and the sensei stepped out.

"See you later, Kenshin-ojisan!" Kazuo said, running toward the gathering flock of children.

"Have fun," Kenshin said. If Kazuo heard him, he didn't acknowledge it and melted into the crowd, standing only a little taller than everyone else. The sensei was a woman, young and bright and it was obvious she loved the children very much. She caught sight of him and bowed a greeting, he bowed back and watched as she and Kazuo herded the laughing children into the school room. Just before the door closed, Shinta and Inoi poked their heads out and waved to him vigorously. There was nothing Kenshin could do but smile and lift his hand in return. Inoi looked in as the sensei called her and she tugged at Shinta's collar. The two slipped back into the room, shutting the door behind them.

The smile was still on his face as he started to walk from the building. Instead of going back home, he crossed the bridge that spanned the small pond and to a single pine tree sitting near the edge of the property. A grave marker stood in front of it, incense curling from the two burners on either side. A scattering of pine needles littered the grass around the marker. Kenshin patiently brushed them away from the stone, then rested his hand on the cool surface, feeling the characters carved there.

"Aaa, sorry Ayame-chan, I didn't bring you anything this time. I just wanted to let you know there might be a lost child who needs a hand to hold on to."

She had always loved children. When she had been alive the children would always flock to her. She never had the chance to be a mother but at least she'd spent one year teaching them. One last beautiful year before her illness restricted her to bed and then, inevitably, carried her beyond it. Even though the disease had left her weak and pale, she had died with a smile, surrounded by everyone she had ever loved. It was the most peaceful death Kenshin had ever seen and it had broken his heart even as it gave him hope.

"Protect them," he murmured, caressing the stone once more, then he stood and started back the way he had come. He passed through the well trampled school yard and was soon on road that fed into the market. It had gotten quieter, as if the city had guessed his mood. The late morning shoppers had dwindled to a quiet trickle and gentle murmuring voices. He wasn't wound so tight anymore and in fact felt liable to float away if he didn't pay attention.

The thought of home drifted through his mind. There would be a soft futon there, with the sun coming in just right and a cool breeze to tug gently at his clothes. Perhaps if Kaoru was tired, he would also have a warm wife to curl around. Aah, but that was after the breakfast dishes were clean and lunch was made. The laundry had to be taken in as well and folded and put away. The roof too, needed checking and fixing and tofu needed to be bought for dinner which needed to be made early so he could help Megumi at the clinic this evening.

There would be no sleep for him, he knew, or at least very little. Kenji had better stay home tonight. Kenshin wasn't even sure what he would be like after a third night of no rest. He also needed to talk to Kenji, not only about what had happened last night but what was happening daily to the boy's attitude. Maybe he could explain to him, get him to listen. And maybe Saitou would grow a fondness for kittens and elegant kimono. Kenshin tried to get that mental image out of his mind as soon as it drifted in. He was so distracted that he didn't even notice someone behind him until they almost touched his sleeve. He stepped out of the way without thinking and blinked down at the young girl who pulled her hand back and gave him a wide-eyed look as if she was afraid she'd insulted him. Kenshin smiled at her warmly, noting the green apron she wore and the smudges of dirt on her red sleeves. She seemed nervous but not afraid as if she'd been trying to get his attention.

"Can this one help you?" he said encouragingly. Partly, he thought with a stab of guilt, to get this business over with so he could go back home to the sleep he might get if he hurried.

"Excuse me," she said with a bow, her hair, in two long black braids flopping over her shoulder. It was a woman's gesture in a child's way and Kenshin couldn't help but smile. "I don't mean to bother you but are you Himura-san's father? Himura Kenji, I mean," she said, her face turning a little red.

"Aa," Kenshin said, looking at her in a new light. Who was she that she knew Kenji? A romantic interest was the first thing that popped into his mind, which meant both that he really was sleep deprived and that he'd been surrounded by women for far too long. This girl could be any number of people. At least she didn't say his son's name in the ominous tones of someone reporting a misdeed.

"I'm sorry, normally I would tell him in person, but he hasn't been by and Papa says he'll throw away the flowers that Himura-san ordered if he doesn't pick them up soon." She began tugging at her braid. "I like them but Papa says that kind of flower is a unpopular now and it's taking up space."

"I will be sure to tell him," Kenshin said, bemused. Kenji had ordered flowers? For what? It didn't fit the mental image he had of his son. The girl seemed to want to say something more and Kenshin waited patiently. Instead she bowed again and hurried off back the way she had come. Kenshin watched her go until she disappeared into a tiny shop tucked beside a sprawling green grocer. Rather than puzzle out the reasons now, he tucked the incident into the back of his mind and once again started for home.

It didn't take long to reach the dojo and even though Kenshin wanted to be inside, he hesitated by the gate. Kenji's class would have ended by now. Would he be sullen? Obnoxious? Most likely he was still in the bath which meant Kenshin would have some time to prepare himself before facing the child. And what kind of father was he? Hoping to avoid his son so there would be no possibility of a fight. Kenshin sighed and pushed open the door, feeling like a coward, a tired coward.

The first thing he saw was Kenji and the sight was enough to stop him in his tracks. The boy had taken down most of the laundry, and was currently painstakingly folding a gi. Kaoru hadn't made him do this, Kenshin knew. If she had, the clothes would be folded as messily as possible or just tossed in the basket. Kenji put the gi into the basket, then straightened and covered a wide yawn. Kenshin smiled, shutting the door quietly behind him. Kenji turned and saw him. He was frowning a little and met Kenshin's gaze only a moment before looking away. He was embarrassed, maybe ashamed, and uncomfortable. There were dark circles under his eyes too and a slope to his shoulders that betrayed his exhaustion.

"Good morning," Kenshin said, moving closer and tentatively put a hand on Kenji's shoulder. Kenji didn't twitch away but his muscles tensed. Kenshin wasn't sure what it meant and let his hand drift away. There was a moment of silence, filled with the unsaid words that surrounded them, the sort of tension that was always there between them.

"Thank you for taking down the laundry," he said breaking the tension before an unfortunate word shattered it. "It really helps this one out, that it does." Kenshin inwardly winced. That had sounded a bit impersonal. He didn't normally use that kind of speech with his children but it had slipped out without warning. Kenji shrugged, a gesture which could mean nothing or everything.

"You were out all night looking for me and I thought you'd like to be able to rest when you got home," Kenji said, gently pulling a small pair of tabi from the line. Kenshin stared. His Kenji was being considerate and concerned with the feelings of others? Kenshin was tempted to call him on it, pointing out this gentler side in hopes Kenji would develop it.

"That's very thoughtful," Kenshin said, not having the energy to explain fully and still wary of an argument. Kenji shrugged again. Kenshin helped with the rest of the clothes, enjoying the peace while it lasted and watching in a sort of wonder as Kenji folded quickly and efficiently as if he'd been doing it for years. When the last yukata had been folded, it was Kenji that picked up the basket, surprising Kenshin yet again.

"Now maybe you can help me do the breakfast dishes," Kenshin said teasingly.

"I already did them and cleaned the kitchen." Kenji held the basket on his hip with one hand and with the other rubbed the back of his neck. "And don't worry about lunch. Mother is determined to make it no matter what you say."

"Aaa, well I'm sure she'll make something….better than last time." That was the one thing about Kaoru's cooking, it rarely ever got worse. "Where is your mother now?"

"She's in the dojo talking to Yahiko-ji." Kenji clutched the basket with both hands again, fingernails digging into the wood. "He's still kind of mad at me."

"Is that so?" Kenshin said, glancing toward the dojo. He would have to talk to Yahiko about that. It was possible that Kenji was exaggerating, but Yahiko did have the tendency to hold a bit of a grudge. Even if it was a grudge, Kenshin was sure it would dissipate quickly. Yahiko was more mature now and viewed Kenji as part of his family, but Kenshin still wanted to talk to him. But not right now. Kenji had already started toward the house and Kenshin followed him, stopping on the engawa to stare out into the sun drenched courtyard. The roof still needed to be looked at, but lunch was in the near capable hands of his lovely wife and it didn't look like rain.

Kenshin sat where he was, resting against the wall. He reached up then looked at his hand with a half smile. Even though he hadn't held a sword in years, he'd still moved to hold it against his shoulder. He dropped his hand back to his side. A katana—sakabatou-- was a comfortable thing to have. It was security for his loved ones against the rest of the world. If it was just that, if that was all the sword meant to him, he would still carry it. But he longed for it in a faded way, wanted to feel the weight of it, get the sense of power and the knowledge he could dominate any troubles that might come his way. That was the ruroni in him, still pressing below the surface, and even further, deeper, the hitokiri, a faded memory but still existing, a stain, scar on his soul. He would never come to that point again, he knew, but he would never forget it either. A hitokiri was a hitokiri until death. In the meantime however, a former hitokiri could still be a father and a husband and, furthermore, didn't need a sword to do it.

A door slid open and Kenshin heard Kenji coming toward him. The boy was so quiet, but not quiet enough. The thought whispered from the depths and he tried to ignore it. He really needed more sleep.

"Father?" Kenji said. Kenshin looked up at him and saw he was holding a small wooden tray with two onigiri which looked vaguely hamster like. "I made these just in case…you know...Mama gets distracted when making lunch."

"Thank you, Kenji. Would you like to join me?"

"Mm." Kenji sat beside him and set the tray in front of them. Kenshin took one of the onigiri and had a good careful look at it before he said:

"These are good hamsters."

"They're mice," Kenji grumbled.

"Ah." Kenshin looked at the treat again. "I see it now."

"No you don't," Kenji said, picking up his own and taking a big bite out of the head. "You don't have to lie. I'm not a little kid that's going to be upset."

"Aaa, you're right. I'm sorry, Kenji." It was such a little mistake, but it was the little mistakes that could hurt the most. If only he could stop making them. Kenshin bit into the onigiri appreciatively. Kenji didn't eat anymore, just stared at some point beyond the onigiri. The boy was wearing an all too familiar expression. Kenshin felt as if a knife was slowly twisting into his chest. He didn't want this for Kenji. He never wanted for his son to see something so terrible. But maybe it was a good thing; maybe it would prevent him from something even worse in the future. Kenshin put a hand on Kenji's shoulder, feeling the ridge of bandages through the cloth. The knife twisted further

"I know it's hard, Kenji. But sometimes there's nothing you can do."

Kenji startled and looked at him, first in surprise, something like fear, then anger and grief and he looked away, trembling with emotion.

"It's not fair," the boy said in a low hoarse voice. "It's not fair. He was just a little kid. He couldn't even defend himself!" Kenji clenched his hand around the onigiri, squeezing it in half. "How could anyone do that, Papa?" Kenji looked at him then, tears flowing freely down his face. "It's just not fair!"

What could he say to that? What words of comfort could he use? There was nothing that Kenshin could think of and he knew there was nothing to say. It was senseless and Kenshin couldn't understand it either.

"Life isn't fair, my Kenji." He said, taking a risk and gently pressing his lips against his son's forehead. Kenji clung to his gi, twisting it in his fist and cried with harsh silent tears and there was nothing Kenshin could do but hold him.

* * *

Much thanks (and love) to Anreg, Effie and Redswordheart. :D 


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